


Bloodborne: An Amnesiac's Redemption

by Kenrai



Series: Bloodborne Series [2]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Horror, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-10-03 14:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 119,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenrai/pseuds/Kenrai
Summary: In the small city of Yharnam, another terrible night of the hunt is beginning; its longest one yet. A young hunter with no recollection of his past awakens in this world of blood ministration. With little recourse he takes up the mantle of all hunters before him and endeavours to rediscover his lost past.





	1. Disorientation

Bloodborne: An Amnesiac's Redemption  
Paleblood Pursuit Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 3.

Scene 1  
"Oh, yes... Paleblood..."

The voice sounded far off and muffled, as if dreamy and in a distant land.

"Well, you've come to the right place... Yharnam is the home of blood ministration. You need only unravel its mystery. But where's a figure like you supposed to begin...?"

His blurry eyesight finally began to adjust to the inky darkness of the room he was seemingly laying. He tried to move his body but couldn't seem to. The owner's voice soon began to come into focus.

An old, bearded man advanced on him, the wheels in his wheelchair squeaking distinctly.

"Easy... with a bit of Yharnam blood of your own... but first... you'll need a contract." The bearded man spoke from beneath his well-dressed and well-worn out top hat.

Contract?

The wheelchair-bound man flashed him a small grin from his advancing position, somehow looming over him. He rose up an aged parchment from inside of his cloak and, somehow, it gleaned down at him.  
How...?

His eyesight blurred a little as it flashed over him in silvery moonlit, bright letters.

STEWART FORBES

"Good... all signed and sealed," the strange seeming doctor claimed, his soft words bringing him out of his trance with a contrasting startle. "Now... let's begin the transfusion..." The unnamed bearded man spoke in his growing, slow grin as he loomed over him. "Don't you worry... whatever happens... you may think it all a mere bad dream..."

As if immediately on queue his vision soon began to worsen and blur once more and he found himself struggling to even hear anything anymore. He opened his mouth and attempted to ask the man above him a question...

… but it would not come to him.

~

His eyes re-opened but not for long; the dim glow of after-sunlight had left the room he lay in. He tried to gasp but his body felt much too weak even to open his mouth however, movement made him turn his head around to his right.  
A massive pool of bright, crimson red blood opened up on the ground not far from where he lay. He stared over at it and narrowed his eyes, as if to readjust to the darkness but it seemed near impossible. Soon enough however, a night-black form emerged from the pool. The eyes it bore stared threateningly over at him and his ears distinctly caught the sound of its paws splashing into the crimson-hot blood.

It couldn't be... a wolf...?

His blurry envisioned eyes widened and, though he tried to call for help, he could not find a voice to do so. Panic began to shoot up uncomfortably and vertically up his spine as fear took hold; the ebony wolf-beast leaned forward slowly, hovering its frighteningly sharp claws toward the fallen patient. Just when it near came into contact however it jerked its arm back and widened its own amber coloured eyes; a mass explosion of fire covered the roaring wolf-beast, forcing it back the way it came. The large creature gave off one final pained howl before falling to the blood covered floor, seemingly dead.

What was happening...?

"Am I hallucinating...?"

His thoughts were soon interrupted though when he found an impossibly small form climbing upwards on the stretcher he rested on. He double-took in its direction to his right and his eyes widened once more at it; a strangely unnerving little thing. Porcelain white, as if a doll and emaciated. Soon more began to join it and the group of open-mouthed small beings began to crowd around and over the wide-eyed patient. Fever and fear gripped at him once more and, as he stared skywards at the group of small forms, his vision began to blur. Only a single sentence echoed throughout his subconscious when he lost his sentience completely.

"Ahh, you've found yourself a hunter..."

–  
2

"Agh..."

He grunted in obvious pain as his eyes re-opened and he sat upwards. Strength was finally seeming to return to his legs and to his body; his mind quickly attempted to piece together past events as he swivelled himself around to face the side, lightly hopping off the stretcher.

A contract... and then a wolf.

The old man, he thought.

Where was he?

He looked down at himself and found himself wearing simple clothes, a ruined and bloodied bandage across his two forearms. He raised his hands slowly up and looked down at them, turning them over.  
They seemed fine...

He felt upwards and found himself wearing a strange hood.

Finally, his eyes widened when he realised one very important thing.

He could not remember a thing about himself.

His only clue was the name he had once seen on the contract the strange old man showed him.

STEWART FORBES

"But is that... even my name?" The seemingly foreign man thought to himself as he gradually clenched his fists softly in tandem with his shutting eyes. Even as he shook his head and re-opened his eyes, they were soon drawn to a distinctly lit up note lying in a chair dead ahead. His curiosity piqued, he strode forward and narrowed his eyes down at it; bending down to pick it up, he very quickly read the handwritten scrawled note hungrily.

SEEK PALEBLOOD TO TRANSCEND THE HUNT.

"Paleblood...?" The amnesiac parroted out in a low murmur, his brow furrowing in remembrance and thought.

Where did he hear that word before?

The old man perhaps?

The patient merely shook his hooded head of the note and discarded it softly back down to its original place, turning his eyes on the double-doors to his left.  
The exit?

Even as he strode forward, opened the doors up and walked out them he found the flash of the amber sunset through the top window terribly aching to his eyes. He raised up his free left bandaged hand to block the sun's falling rays across his eyes and climbed down the long staircase before him. Soon striding into a second hallway entering into another room, his eyes darted around as he dropped his left arm, his vision unimpaired.

Other stretchers, just like his.

Was this a clinic of some kind?

SQUELCH

He winced and jostled at the sudden and disgusting noise to his top right; his narrow-eyed head snapped to his right and that familiar wave of fear and nausea began to bite at him once more.  
It couldn't be...

Not again surely?

He bent his body downward for stealth purposes and hid behind one of the many stretchers lying around the clinic room as he moved around it, as if using it as a shield. He stretched his body to the side to allow his eyes to similarly move past the blocking tools of the hospital room.

What he found chilled him to the bones.

A number of horribly disfigured corpses, covered in blood and entrails, lay beneath a hungrily scoffing wolf-like creature.  
It can't be the same one, he thought to himself in dim vain.

His eyes darted upward to find the entrance to another seeming hallway.

If he could sneak by then maybe he could avoid a fight entirely.

But what if it detected him...?

With no weapons he was as good as dead.

I can't fight it like this, he thought.

What if I can't fight at all?

He gulped down a hefty amount of saliva and, gathering what small courage he possessed, the youth lightly stepped around to the wolf's blind side; the right. Very slowly and controlled, he tapped across the floorboards, hoping desperately not to cause any noise. He could hear the creature ravenously rip apart the dead flesh that lay beneath it, seemingly savouring in its meal. He shut his eyes as he listened, his anxiety growing as he attempted to sneak by it.

CRASH

The patient's eyes shot wide open as he felt his left leg brush past one of the tools, causing a rather loud noise indeed.  
With his eyes shut, he could not have noticed at all.

Oh no, he thought.

With agility he did not know he had, the patient could barely gasp as he leapt to his right instinctively to avoid the roaring wolf's leaping slash attack. As he rolled across the ground and the floorboards noisily, his widened eyes watched the similarly skidding wolf-beast crashing into and easily destroying one of the stretcher beds he once snuck by. Time soon shut down for the pair as they soon came to a simultaneous halt; staring one another down from their positions, the wolf-beast hungrily and the patient worriedly.

The youth's eyes very quickly snapped to his right, as if eyeing the exit desperately; his similarly eager foe seemed to notice for its own eyes followed his and, as it soon broke the silence into a slow approach, the patient immediately turned around and broke into a frantic run.

CRASH

Another seeming stretcher bed was destroyed in the creature's wake as it charged through in hope of catching its next prey. The gasping patient attempted to leap over the fallen and half-eaten corpses but soon found himself frantically tripping up, perhaps on a body or a part of it. His eyes widened once more but this time in abject horror as he found himself falling to the ground. Attempting to scramble back to his feet he barely had more time to move before the growling wolf behind him finally caught up.

SQUELCH

The youth's eyes snapped wide open for the second time and he let loose a blood curdling scream of terror and pain as he felt its presumed claw pierce his left leg's flesh. Attempting to turn his body around to get a look at his attacker, he could only catch sight of its chilling amber eyed glare before, finally, it leaned forward with its free right claw and sunk it forward into his face.

–  
3

His eyes snapped wide open and, though he tried to reassert himself, he found his senses dulled somewhat. He winced and attempted to rise upwards only to find the area ahead of him blurry and disorientating.  
What in the world was going on?

A garden lay before him and a small bath to his left at the end of the clearing. Behind him lay a path that seemed to twist around the garden and in front of him to his right were four graves. Only one was designed differently however; a strange and seemingly almost vulgar design. Its front was roughly cut in half, lead up by the twisting staircase into a small house-like structure above. His eyes stayed fixated on it and he began to stride forward as if to climb up toward it before suddenly stopping just short of the staircase itself. He double-took in his left immediate direction and widened his eyes at the sight next to him.

A small but very life-like doll lay on the small stone hill next to him, its head tilted to the side. The young man blinked down at it and could almost feel it staring back at him.  
Strange, he thought.

It was a well-made creation indeed; its long silvery-white hair came down like draped curtains over its porcelain-like complexion and the regal clothes it wore seemed to indicate a strange sense of importance.  
He gave it one last lingering look before finally deciding to shake the sight off and resumed climbing the staircase before him. Just as he did however, his eyes double-took once more to the ground below him; he stopped just short of the strange sight before him, eyes widening. A quadruple group of small life-forms seemed to congregate around a visible glowing item. He blinked down at it before narrowing his eyes at the small life-forms, recognising them.

Weren't they the things in his dream?

What was even going on anymore?

"Am I sane...?"

With that thought driving him on he very carefully knelt down and reached a hand out down to the small circle. When he finally touched it however, he heard the small life-forms utter something and his eyes widened when he pulled his left hand back to find a broad brown axe inside it.

"What the...?" He murmured out. Before he could even question the strange forms below him however they very quickly disappeared as soon as they reappeared. He turned his quizzical eyes over to the three remaining groups and walked on over. Reaching down just as before he pulled out a pistol of some kind and, finally, a small notebook. Blinking down at them, unsure, he placed the pistol on his belt and stuffed the notebook beneath his vest.

His mind, burning with questions and curiosity, drove him on as he pushed the double-oak doors before him. With a single effort-filled grunt he parted them both to reveal a surprising sight indeed; a workshop lay before him. Books upon books upon tables of research lay around the small room. With the new axe's hilt laying softly in his right hand he turned his eyes around to examine the new workshop around him. A wide storage container lay to his right and a small cabinet of books to its own right. Turning his eyes to the table next to it he soon double-took a third time only to widen his eyes at the sight.  
A smiling old man stared back at him, sitting in a wheelchair.

The blood minister from before?!

No, he thought.

Somehow... it wasn't.

Then who...?

"Ah-hah, you must be the new hunter," the well-dressed man greeted over in his light smile. He held a fashionable cane between his legs as he stared up at the approaching young man. "Welcome to the Hunter's Dream. This will be your home, for now."  
His voice seemed to be of common origin; cockney perhaps?

He wore a peculiar but very worn grey cape and trousers and his long greyed hair seemed to go well with the similarly worn top hat he wore.

"I am... Gehrman, friend to you hunters," the old man began again as he smiled up at the youth. "What is your name?"

The youth's eyes widened.

What was his name?

Suddenly, memories of his dealing with the blood minister from earlier came rushing back to him.

STEWART FORBES

"M-My name-"

"You don't seem to be from around here do you...?" The newly introduced Gehrman questioned him with a light tilt of his head. "Your accent...," he started, raising one of his grey eyebrows upward. "It's not recognisable to me and yet..."

The nameless youth blinked back at him as he listened.

"You seem... so familiar...," the old man claimed as he lost his smile, very temporarily to a suspicious narrow-eyed frown. The nameless youth turned his eyes away from his new friend, unsure of what to say in response. "Well, no matter," Gehrman claimed, this time with a light grin on his aged face. "You're sure to be in a fine haze about now, but don't think too hard about all of this," he began to explain before his grin seemed to widen ever so slightly as he tipped his head to the side knowingly. "Just... go out and kill a few beasts," he attempted to reason with the youth. "It's for your own good. You know, it's just what hunters do! You'll get used to it..."

"But-" The young hunter began as he frowned back at the listening Gehrman. The elderly man raised a curious eyebrow up at him, as if to press him further. The youth winced as he lowered his eyes in response, as if looking for some kind of reply. "Really...?"

"Yes," Gehrman chuckled, as if the answer itself was as obvious as the sun's setting. "Yharnam has a bit of a beast problem you see," he explained briefly, his smile faltering as he did so. "And we have need of young men and women like yourselves."  
The nameless youth frowned unsatisfactorily but could only nod back in response as he listened dutifully.

"Now... what shall I call you?"

The hunter's eyes widened.

Oh no, he thought.

What was his name?

I can't remember, he thought to himself worriedly.

What should I say?

The name from the blood minister's contract was the only name he could think of but he did not feel comfortable giving claim to it.

Not yet anyway.

"U-Um I'm sorry... I... I'm not sure-"

"Amnesia, is it?" The old man chuckled knowingly; the youth's eyes shot back up in recognition and surprise, allowing him to continue. "Yes... it seems to be a thing with our hunters in this particular workshop..."

"So, then...?"

"Then I shall call you... good hunter," the elderly man smiled onwards as he tilted his top hatted head at the youth. "Is that acceptable?"

Stewart nodded enthusiastically, the ghosts of a smile slowly approaching on his young features.

"Excellent," the wheelchair-bound man similarly nodded in his growing grin. "Then... your training begins now... good hunter."


	2. In the Deep End

Chapter 2: In the Deep End  
Paleblood Pursuit Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hidden Skill Training" - The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess OST. Scene 1 (First Half).

-

A night of the hunt that is seemingly never-ending and a city full of beasts to eradicate.  
Yharnam.  
A city on the brink of extinction; a young man awakes in the midst of this bloodshed and confusion and forms a contract with a blood minister. When he awakes he is cut down and reawakens inside a seemingly artificial construct which is called the Hunter's Dream. An old wheelchair-bound man living there introduces himself as Gehrman and offers the amnesiac some training to prepare him.  
With only a single name to go on from his earlier contract, Stewart Forbes accepts his new mentor's training and, with it, hopes to uncover answers of his past.

-

Scene 1

"No, no... that simply will not do..."

Stewart gasped in pain once more as he was sent careering across the garden's beautiful flower bed, rolling across it on his side. He grunted as he pushed himself back up off the ground and rubbed at the trickle of blood dripping down the side of his mouth. The intimidating form of Gehrman stood over him, casting his shadow in a looming manner. Unable to see his eyes or even his facial expression, Stewart's own eyes narrowed back at him as he re-affixed the grip on his Hunter's Axe and set his legs apart.

"You are my apprentice," Gehrman spoke again, his cockney accent common but commanding. He spun the Burial Blade he held around his hands expertly, seemingly familiar with its presence, and re-opened his mouth to continue as he advanced on the grit-toothed young man. "I will not have you die so easily," the veteran hunter explained very briefly as he approached the youth. A grin re-appeared on his dark complexion however, watching past his long greyed hair. "Not that your life really matters that much anymore..."

Stewart raised a curious eyebrow up at his mentor's words, unsure on the meaning but before he could even consider them he widened his eyes at the sight before him.

CLANG

Stewart's axe clashed with Gehrman's scythe noisily; he shot his new weapon up in a diagonal motion to block the older man's blade with his own. The young hunter's teeth grit even harder than before when he felt the pure presence and strength his opponent commanded.

There was no way he would be able to break through.

Unless...?

With that thought searing through his mind, Stewart broke the defensive hold and leapt to his right in a forward roll of evasion. Gehrman's eyes snapped in his direction as he cut the flower bed that his opponent was previously laying on. The elderly warrior grew a small grin to his face as he watched him leave his field of vision.

"Yes... very good," the old man grinned out in a light compliment. "A hunter must indeed be fleet of foot." He claimed boldly as he spun the Burial Blade once more, re-righting his position as he did so. With barely any effort at all however, the expert fighter snapped the blade of his weapon in his undefended rear.

CLANG

Once more they clashed but this time in different positions; Stewart's eyes widened when his attempted back-attack was seemingly easily thwarted by the older warrior's defence. He grunted as he back-shifted to his own rear in quick evasion, evading the spinning Burial Blade's inevitable counter-attack. Gehrman turned the rest of his body around to face his enemy but regained his seemingly disappointed frown when he could no longer find him. It didn't stay long however; his confident expression re-appeared as quick as his acrobatics did when he felt movement high above him.

The elderly man opted not to move in his own attempt of evasion however when the wide-eyed form of Stewart suddenly descended down from his crown, Hunter's Axe held high into the air. The young hunter grit his blood covered teeth and suddenly exhaled a grunt as he smashed his weapon into the ground where his mentor was standing, back-end first.

"Did I get him...?" The young man gasped in his mind as his eyes darted around in search for the old man.

Unfortunately however he could not find him.

Where-?

Stewart's eyes widened when he realised the truth but, albeit, too late.

SQUELCH

"Ah-!" Stewart could only gasp out, his eyes widened for the umpteenth time; Gehrman, seemingly re-appeared dead ahead in front of him, had sunk the scythe end of his Burial Blade directly into his lower stomach, easily drawing blood. Time seemed to slow down for the shock-expressed fledgling hunter before, finally, Gehrman yanked his weapon out and spun around to roundhouse kick him in his wounded area.

Stewart could barely grunt in pain as he rolled across another of the garden's many flower beds, staining it red in his wounded form. When his sailing finally halted as he slammed into the wall behind him, his vision began to blur as he attempted to look upward. As before the dark form of his new mentor approached him, slow as can be.

"You may be quick on your feet...," he began lightly as he unpaired trick weapon he carried, a loud clang echoing in the dream. "But your killing ability is hindered."

Unable to find the energy with which even to respond, Stewart could only stare upward at his teacher, gasping continually in effort to stay conscious.

"Here."

Stewart blinked down at the blurry form of the item he was seemingly tossed; a syringe seemingly filled with blood.

"W-Wha-?"

"A blood vial," Gehrman replied very briefly in an upward nod of his head. "It will soon become your best friend out there in the hunt." He explained.

With shaking blood covered hands, Stewart grunted as he gripped the syringe and, with no explanation, shoved the needle into his left leg.

The effects were almost immediate.

A large amount of his pain died down and he gasped when it did; his eyes widened as his vision began to focus once more. He turned his shock-expressed form up to face the grinning Gehrman; the elderly mentor nodded down at him, as if reading his thoughts.

"Stand up, good hunter," he commanded very softly; the younger hunter nodded as he raised himself up, staring down at his once injured stomach, now suddenly healed. "Behold the work of blood ministration," the old hunter chuckled knowingly, eliciting a surprised blink from the listening Stewart. "You must get to the point where you no longer need to rely on these," he admonished very lightly however, regaining a hardened frown.

Stewart turned briefly to face him and nodded in silent acknowledgement.

"When you are injured, even very lightly, you can restore some of that lost health with what we hunters call 'rally'," Gehrman began in his next light lecture. "It is only there for a short time but if your footwork is adequate enough you will be able to evade all attacks and gain even further momentum."

"Isn't that just reckless though?" Stewart finally opened his mouth to respond, raising a curious eyebrow upwards. Gehrman chuckled back in reply, briefly shutting his eyes.

"For the young, perhaps," he began almost humorously before continuing. "But I and everyone I have taught have made excellent use of 'rallying'," the First Hunter claimed boldly. "You will never be a good hunter without it."

"Yes sir." The newly restored youth nodded in acknowledgement once more.

"I didn't see you use your pistol at all either," he continued as he used his free bony finger to point down to the youth's firearm lying on his belt. Stewart's eyes snapped down to widen at it hanging on him, lightly surprised. "If you can tell when my attack is coming...," the elderly warrior began sagely before grinning more openly as he elaborated further. "A well placed gunshot will open me up for a visceral attack."

"'Visceral attack'?" Stewart parroted, blinking forward.

"Some hunters liked to call it the 'parry' technique," Gehrman claimed as he re-joined the rest of his Burial Blade to his back to fold his coated arms together. "Visceral attacks also work directly with rallying; you can turn the tide of battle with this."  
Stewart nodded once more dutifully, brow furrowing as he listened.

"Well then... good hunter," Gehrman finally finished with as his grin lightly expanded. "Isn't it time you got going...?"

~

Even as he entered the first floor sickroom he couldn't help but feel a worried sense of displacement.

The wolf, he thought.

Further ahead, wasn't it?

"Are you... out on the hunt?"

Stewart's eyebrows lifted in light surprise; he about-turned his body to find the source of the voice directly around him. Behind him stood a half-broken windowed double-door, seemingly leading into the clinic from whence he had came.

"U-Um, y-yes," the young man smiled nervously in response as he craned his neck to see through the very small broken patches of the window, albeit unsuccessfully. "Were you the one who rescued me?"

"Then I'm very sorry, but... I can't open this door," she merely continued on, as if he hadn't spoken at all. Stewart could only blink in confusion as he listened further. "I am Iosefka. The patients here in my clinic must not be exposed to infection," the newly re-introduced doctor explained, a light pain in her voice. Stewart's frown softened up as he listened. "I know that you hunt for us, for our town, but I'm sorry. Please... this is all I can do."

As if to further elaborate on her words, she seemingly pushed a robust glass vial through one of the many open holes in the window. Stewart reached forward with his free left hand and gently took it from her, inspecting it.

Seemingly a blood vial.

But... the colour of it...?

"Now, go. And good hunting."

"Um... thank you, doctor," Stewart managed to murmur lightly out as he frowned on forward. "I owe you." The young hunter claimed in a light, appreciative smile before hesitantly turning 'round to leave.

Exposed to infection, he thought.

Were there even others in there?

He didn't remember seeing anyone else at the time...

He shook his ruminations off and began to hug the wall as he descended down the stairs and entered the same clinic in which he had been previously cut down.

The sounds of flesh being eaten and scraped filled his ears, even if far off.

Yeah, he thought; it was still here.

He shut his eyes and attempted to slow his fiercely beating heart before steeling his courage and bending his body low. He soon began to creep forward across the quiet wooden floor, eyes narrowed forward at his prey.

He was a hunter.

Just as sensei Gehrman taught me, he thought to himself.

Use the cover of night.

Almost unwilling to believe it however; he soon began to slowly approach his once intimidating enemy and, with his eyes widening, he rose up the Hunter's Axe threateningly. A shadow soon loomed over the wolf-like beast and, perhaps noticing, slowly turned its head around to eye him with its hungry yellow orbs.

Now!

SMASH

Stewart brought his Hunter's Axe down with all the strength his right arm could command. A strange and loud sound echoed throughout his mind and through the clinic, leaving the grunting and bleeding wolf on its belly, seemingly collapsed. Stewart's eyebrows lifted up when he saw it.

Could it be?

The visceral attack!

The young hunter-in-training quickstepped forward and, purely on instinct, shot his right hand forward to attack with. His Hunter's Axe bizarrely and temporarily left his grip completely, seemingly disappearing into thin air, allowing him room to attack with his bare hand. He stuffed his right arm through the wolf's back shoulder-blades and called out loudly in a battle cry as his face was covered in its similarly roaring blood.

SQUELCH-SMASH

With a single and final push, he forced the beast off of his dominant arm, sending it rolling and bleeding across the wooden floor roughly. Gasping with effort and completely shocked at the proceedings, Stewart turned his eyes slowly down to his right arm to find the Hunter's Axe re-appeared safely in his grip.

Sensei Gehrman was right, he thought to himself in his wide-eyed state.

I can do this, he continued on, his morale raising.

His once intimidating enemy now lay in a broken and pained heap of bones and blood; he stood victorious and raised up his left free open palm to his eyes, frowning back at it. Soon however he clenched his fingers together in a determined fist and turned his eyes forward, a small morale-infused grin taking over his features.

–  
2

Loud coughing, echoed down past the ladder he climbed made Stewart's brow furrow as he listened.

Was that a person?

When he made the final approach he quickly surveyed the area as fast as he could.

A small form barked at the lit window; seemingly the source of the loud coughing. Stewart's eyes narrowed forward at the dog-like creature that barked at the voice; the grip on his Hunter's Axe strengthened, readying himself for a fight. The creature seemed to finally take note of his appearance and, turned to face him very slowly. The pair stared one another down in a gaze that felt like minutes, even hours before, finally, the beast-like dog barked out once more as it leapt forward to attack.

Quick as can be, Stewart quickstepped to his right and narrowly avoided the beast's attack before spinning in a horizontal slash with his axe as it passed him. The young hunter's movement was paused temporarily, stuck in his attack animation before his eyes darted to his far left, as if listening intently. The dog gave out one whimper as it fell the ground, rolling across the cement; it soon fell through the air down the ladder after its former enemy. Relaxing his stance, his enemy having been defeated, Stewart briefly turned his eyes back before re-facing the front and softening his expression.

Along with the bright light of the paned window before him, Stewart suddenly spied a lone lantern in the midst of it all. Surprised, he turned his blinking eyes down toward it and soon approached it, tilting his head at it.  
Were these the lanterns that lead back to the dream?

Without even thinking, the youth leaned his free left finger down and clicked something inside the lantern. It immediately lit up before him and he couldn't help but smile.

He often wondered why he knew all of this.

Turning his eyes upward to the lit-up window before him however he let curiosity take hold of him and soon approached the window. Frowning, he raised up his free left backhand to knock on the frame enveloping the window. Before he could reach it however, a voice interrupted him and his eyebrows lifted up in surprise as it did.

"Oh, you must be... a hunter, and not one from around here either," the voice began softly through the window. "I am... Gilbert," the strange accent spoke, finally introducing itself. "A fellow outsider."

"Outsider...?" Stewart murmured out dreamily in response, unsure of his words somehow. "Um, y-yes, I'm... Stewart." He called forward in his re-affirming nod, a small smile growing on his face.

"Please... come 'round to the door on the right," Gilbert's voice instructed very softly; Stewart blinked in light surprise before tracing his eyes in the man's stated direction. "I will unlock the door from here."

Should he...?

To trust a strange man in a new city seemed so...

But he saved this man, maybe he just wanted to repay him?

So many conflicting thoughts flew through his mind.

"Sensei Gehrman would want me to..." He thought to himself as he nodded forward. "Fine, let's do it."

~

Even as he entered the building's small foyer his nerves still ached at him badly, as if this was a mistake.

And a big one at that.

A quiet whirring made him snap his eyes to his left and, dead ahead, a wheelchair-bound man drove into the foyer with him. His posture was contrastingly lower than his new partner's and he smiled lightly on up at Stewart invitingly.

"Greetings," Gilbert re-introduced himself with as he smiled warmly. "Come this way, please," he gestured with a free hand. His wheelchair whirred as he turned it, seemingly with his other hand, and led the frowning young hunter into his living room. As Stewart walked in he kept an eye on the older man before him, taking in his appearance. "Please, take a seat," he called over his shoulder in his smile; Stewart nodded and placed his Hunter's Axe and pistol across his belt, laying himself to sit down on one of the many chairs offered to him. He watched the quiet Gilbert whirr himself across into the kitchen, seemingly smiling behind his words.

"Take any milk or sugar?"

Stewart blinked; was he talking about tea?

Tea, in this situation.

He couldn't help but chuckle before nodding almost instinctual.

"Um y-yes, milk and two please." He called back over in his own smile.

Finished with his preparation, the older resident of Yharnam smiled as he whirred himself back into the room, now carrying two mugs. He handed one to the similarly smiling Stewart.

"Be careful; it's hot," he warned him, eliciting a light chuckle from the young hunter. "You must have had a fine time of it; Yharnam has a special way of treating guests," Gilbert continued on their conversation from earlier, his frown re-appearing on his face. "I don't think I could stand if I wanted to, but I'm willing to help, if there's anything that can be d-" He began once more before widening his eyes and coughing out suddenly. Stewart winced very lightly as he listened, his worries growing. "Don't worry," Gilbert waved off the youth's obvious worries with a light smile. "I've had this illness with me since my teenage years; it's not contagious in any way."

"It's not that, that worries me." Stewart admitted in a light chuckle with a small smile of his own.

"This town... it is cursed," Gilbert suddenly interjected with however, another grave frown attached to his expression. "Whatever your reasons might be, you should plan a swift exit," he explained once more before re-narrowing his eyes forward and nodding at him. "Whatever can be gained from this place... will do more harm than good, I assure you."

"Honestly I'm not really sure... what I'm looking for...," Stewart began in a light, tired and defeated smile as he lowered his eyes in conjunction with his tone of voice. He soon re-raised them to face his new companion however, taking in his short brown hair and simple clothes. "But there is something."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of... 'Paleblood'?"

"'Paleblood' you say...," Gilbert murmured out as he turned his eyes to the small coffee table next to him, as if pondering quietly to himself. He shook his head however as he re-raised his eyes to face his speaking partner. "Never heard of it; sorry," the wheelchair-bound man apologised in his frown. Stewart turned his own eyes down in light defeat. "But if it's blood you're interested in..."

"Y-Yes?" The young hunter managed to gasp, surprised.

"You should try the Healing Church," he informed very quickly in his frown. Stewart listened dutifully and respectfully. "The church controls all knowledge on blood ministration, and all varieties of blood." He explained very briefly, soon eliciting a wide-eyed frown from the listening Stewart.

Blood ministration?

The old man that drew his contract was a minister if he recalled correctly!

"Across the valley to the East of Yharnam lies the town of the Healing Church, known as the Cathedral Ward," Gilbert explained once more very briefly as he took a quick sip of his tea. "Deep within the Cathedral Ward is the old grand cathedral," he continued on before re-gaining a small smile on his face as he tilted his head very lightly. "The birthplace of the Healing Church's 'special blood'... or so they say." He briefly managed to finish in a light chuckle before suddenly erupting into another small coughing fit.  
Stewart winced and made to get up off his chair to assist the disabled man but, using his free hand, Gilbert waved him off silently, shaking his head mid-cough before finally re-settling down.

"Yharnamites don't share much with outsiders... and normally they wouldn't let you even near the place but...," he began to explain as he took a deep breath in, presumably to help settle his body back down to normal. He re-raised his eyes and frowned hard at the listening Stewart. "The hunt is on tonight," Gilbert reminded the youth, narrowing his eyes forward. "This might be your chance..."

Gilbert's right, he thought.

This is the best chance he had found yet.

"It's all thanks to you," Stewart smiled this time in his appreciative nod. Taken by surprise, Gilbert could only blink back at him. "Whatever can I do to repay you?"

"Repay me?" The foreign man could only chuckle back in response, still seeming surprised by his words. "You're far too kind stranger," he laughed in his friendly smile. "You're already doing what you can, are you not?"

His reply surprised Stewart.

He was?

"You're the last hunter I've seen in... years, decades even." He explained further in his warm smile. Stewart's eyes widened in shock-expressed horror.

Was that true?

"Everyone else these days... they're not even human," Gilbert claimed, his smile fading in place of a sad frown as he turned his eyes to the window. "You will receive no mercy out there on those streets, Stewart," the foreign man warned him dutifully as he re-turned his eyes to face him. "Please... bear that in mind, won't you?"

"I will," the young hunter smiled appreciatively once more before taking a quick swig of the tea he was granted earlier and standing up. He walked on over to the surprised Gilbert and offered his free left hand, smiling down at him. "Thank you... for opening up your home to me and for all the information you've just given me."

"It's... no problem," Gilbert chuckled, waving the matter off with a shake of his head as he took the youth's hand in his own, shaking it. "I know what it's like being in a strange land with no-one to call 'friend'," he smiled, nodding similarly as he watched the youth take his hand back and turn, presumably for the foyer once more. "See and be careful out there, will you?"

Stewart merely turned his head half-way 'round to face him, halting his walk as he did so. He raised up his left back-fist and grinned at his new friend as he did, his fingers clenched together in a brotherly-like gesture. With nary another word uttered between them, Stewart headed out for the door, his morale re-infused from his meeting.

He finally had a lead.

The Healing Church.


	3. For Viola

Chapter 3: For Viola  
Gascoigne Clan Investigation Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: “Cleric Beast” - Bloodborne OST. Scene 1 (First Half).

–

Once a bustling city of various people from all kinds of culture, Yharnam is now home only to maddened residents.

Drawn by an unknown memory of the word 'Paleblood', a young man takes on the name 'Stewart Forbes' and becomes a Dream Sustained Hunter. Taken in by an old name indeed, Gehrman the First Hunter, he is thrust into training with the elderly warrior and is taught the basics of hunting. With these skills he manages to save a bound man kept prisoner in his own home.

They introduce themselves as Stewart and Gilbert.

From Gilbert, Stewart receives an incredible lead; though he knows nothing of 'Paleblood' he points the young hunter in the direction of the Cathedral Ward. His morale re-ignited from his meeting with his new friend, Stewart opts to take this as far as he can and moves himself through Central Yharnam with as much strength as he can muster. Only three words remain constant in his mind.

The Healing Church.

–

Scene 1

He gasped as he rolled to his left, narrowly and barely avoiding the screeching Cleric Beast's raking right arm. The ground spit up multiple rocks of the cement's pavement and, as Stewart evaded it in his side-roll, he used his left hand to wipe at the small trickle of blood that had appeared on the corner of his mouth.

This is the kind of beast Gehrman-sensei and the hunters of old fought on a daily basis...?

There's no way!

As if sensing his thoughts, the Cleric Beast let loose another air-rending screech before leaping forward to pursue its much smaller enemy. Widening his eyes, Stewart leapt to his right in another deft evasion attempt; he barely managed to avoid the beast's screaming claw once more and it turned to face him, their faces now in close proximity with one another. Stewart stared back at it, leant to his lower left, his mouth shut and his eyes widened in a mix of abject horror and concern. The Cleric Beast opened up its jaws once more and gave vent to yet another outcry of shrieking, this time in its opponent's face. Stewart's eyes squinted in instinct as he felt its rotten breath and saliva drench his face before grunting as he back-shifted once to land on the wall behind him.

Widening his eyes and lifting his brow for the third time, Stewart this time vaulted himself off of the wall, forward flipping deftly through the air. The Cleric Beast seemed to watch him silently this time, seemingly mesmerised by his movements. Stewart soon extended the Hunter's Axe he held in his right arm and shot it downwards as he soon descended down upon its crown.

The creature soon seemed to realise its opponent's intentions and it let loose another scream, this time one of pain as the blade of the axe struck true; blood sprayed aimlessly from its head and as Stewart yanked his weapon back he grunted as he forced a pre-prepared urn into the creature's open mouth. The Cleric Beast's eyes widened as its screeches soon fell silent, instead replaced with angry grunts and muffled shouts; its free arms raked up at its enemy but the narrow-eyed Stewart used the monster's flesh to back-flip off of, landing gracefully as he did.

Seemingly unable to grab the urn placed strategically within its open mouth, the beast screeched angrily as it merely smashed it together within its powerful jaws. When it did however, the monster gasped, disorientated suddenly when it was coated in a peculiar smelling liquid. It turned its inquisitive eyes down toward its enemy and found him grinning, belting his Hunter's Axe. When he brought out a bottle with a burning top, the grin on his face grew as he spun the bottle up and down in the air. The two stared one another down silently for what felt like hours before, finally, the Cleric Beast acted; it gave vent to one final shriek of rage on its hind legs, as if a challenge to him.

Stewart turned his body around in his newly confident grin and opted to seemingly walk away, almost as if denying the beast; enraged by his actions, the creature leapt forward in its screech to attack him. The dream sustained hunter merely tossed the cocktail behind him and, predictably, it easily collided with the Cleric Beast's oil covered face and body. Stewart shut his eyes in his low grin as he continued walking toward the end of the bridge he stood on, merely listening to the beast give one final screech of pain; seemingly an end to it all.

The beast behind him exploded into an incredible show of raining blood and a single light flash. When he re-opened his eyes, he found a lantern similar to the one he had found earlier. His grin had vanished and, in its place, an inquisitive frown adorned his face as he turned briefly to confirm the kill behind him.

Sure enough, the only thing left were broken debris and the extended rain of blood that he himself had caused.

His confident grin regrew on his face and he nodded.

This was definitely possible, he thought to himself.

What was it Gehrman-sensei used to say?

“Prey slaughtered."

\--

“Welcome home, good hunter.”

Stewart gasped, re-opening his eyes. Sure enough, his eyesight adjusted once more and he found himself within the comforting confines of the Hunter's Dream.

Who's voice was-?

His internal questions were soon answered when he found a smiling young woman staring back at him, standing not far from his position. His eyes narrowed at her and his brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and suspicion.

Who was-?

No... it wasn't a woman, he thought.

“She just looks like one...” He continued his musing, taking in her appearance carefully. Her porcelain and pale complexion seemed to lend credence to the earlier doll he had once spied when first entering the Hunter's Dream. The clothes she wore seemed to almost have expanded as far as her form had, to a life-like size to match her new form. Her long grey hair came down in a very simple but elegant hairstyle; both sides coming down near her ears like a well-designed curtain and drapes.

“I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you,” she began again in her warm and inviting smile. Stewart brow furrowed further as he leant his body to the side in his suspicious stare, unsure of how to react. “Honourable hunter... pursue the echoes of blood, and I will channel them into your strength,” she explained very briefly in her smile. “You will hunt beasts... and I will be here for you, to embolden your sickly spirit.” She finally finished, allowing the youth in turn to respond.

“Doll...?” He murmured out as he tore his aching fingers away from the Hunter's Axe on his belt, opting to take a few steps forward. Surprised at her height, he frowned on up at her inviting smile and finally approached her. He tilted his head up at her in a mix of confusion and bewilderment, unable to believe the words she had just spoken to him. When she reached forward, very slowly, to slip her hands into his right he stiffened and his eyes widened as they snapped down to watch.

Her fingers, unlike his, were definitely connected together as if unnaturally; markings of their connection was evident.

She really was a doll.

How was she alive?!

“What is wrong, good hunter?” She spoke once more her voice soft, soothing and low. “Am I really so shocking to you?” The doll asked, raising his right palm to rest softly on her left cheek.

Stewart could only stare back at her, nervous as a newborn lamb.

In spite of his earlier confidence on the battlefield, he could not find the courage to reply, at least immediately. A side of his face contorted up as he stared back at her, looking for the words with which to respond.

“Am I going insane?” He thought to himself in his shocked, wide-eyed state.

“Good hunter...?” She murmured once more but this time her soft tone had taken a small dip, seemingly into concerned territory.

She must be feeling concerned, he thought to himself, his own worries racing through his mind and his heart.

“I'm s-sorry, I...,” he finally re-opened his mouth to respond with, frowning as he pulled his hand back in a sharp startle. The doll visibly winced from his recoil, watching him with a frown. “I'm not sure what to...,” the youth managed out as he stared down at his open right palm, remembering the eerily velvety texture of her cheek. “Say...”

The plain doll, seemingly saddened by his words, lowered her head and turned her eyes away from his as if unable to face him.

He suddenly felt an intense sense of regret.

Damn it, he thought to himself.

“I-I'm sorry- I-” He attempted to remedy with as he pursued her; the young woman turned, presumably to walk off regardless. “No, wait!” Stewart called over with a raise of his but by the time he re-opened his mouth he missed her to the small house that she entered. He tore his eyes away from her disappeared form and grit his teeth together in an annoyed display of frustration. “Urgh.” The young hunter muttered angrily to himself. He barely had time to kick himself when he double-took at the sound of a whirring wheelchair.

Gehrman?

“Gehrman-sensei...” Stewart greeted in his frown, turning to face the approaching old man. His wheelchair gave little grunts as it hopped up and down the steps leading down from the small house and Gehrman still held dearly onto the cane he held between his legs.

Some things never changed, he thought.

“Hello young man...,” the elderly veteran smiled down at him as he made the final approach. “I see you've met the doll now.” He greeted with in his smile, eliciting a visible wince from the listening Stewart. He turned his eyes away from his once more, this time in a gesture of shame.

“Y-Yes...”

“Please don't be off put by your reaction,” he offered in his smile. Stewart's eyes darted back in light surprise, his brow furrowing once more. “Every hunter before you has reacted similarly to the doll's presence...”

“Every hunter before me...?” The youth parroted in response, his eyes narrowing. Gehrman's smile soon faded in response, as if recognising his words. “So it's not just me,” he added, this time in a breathing sigh of relief. His eyes briefly shut as he put on a similarly reassured. “I still feel horrible though...” He admitted in a low murmur however, his soft and troubled frown resurfacing on his face.

Gehrman's own smile returned to his face as he responded. “Give it time young 'un,” the astute huntsman offered before continuing on. “She'll come around.”

Stewart merely nodded, lowering his eyes in a light display of shame.

“Though I must say...”

He re-focused his eyes upward, lightly surprised.

“That's the first time I've ever seen her warm to one of our own...,” he chuckled onwards in a growing grin. Stewart's eyes narrowed in unsure thought before soon re-raising upward, as if to trace the missing doll. “You may be a special one lad...”

“Aha...,” Stewart chuckled lightly, a small bead of sweat re-appearing on the brow of his forehead. “I doubt that... but thank you... Gehrman-sensei.”

He wished he could feel as well as his new comrades felt about him.

–

2

“Ah!”

Stewart's head snapped 'round mid-patrol, deep in the streets of Central Yharnam.

What was that noise?

It sounded like...

He narrowed his eyes to his left side and watched at the sight before him.

A tall man stood high over the form of a little girl, looming a threatening single-handed axe over her fallen form.

“You plague ridden rat!”

The man's voice; definitely one of the many insane residents left in town.

Stewart's eyes widened and he suddenly broke into a run, tearing the Hunter's Axe from his belt. The man seemed to hear him and briefly turned mid-speech to widen his eyes similarly back at his new opponent.

“Away!” The man screamed back, the torch lighting up his afflicted face of fur and facial hair. “Away!” He exclaimed further, waving at the air with his torch as he did so. With a deft sprint however he managed to quickstep further ahead than the man was prepared for, his Hunter's Axe used in a horizontal sweeping slash attack at his side as he did so. Landing just short of the ladder behind him, he bent his body low, covered in the man's blood. He snapped his head up just as the man managed out his last grunt of pain, dropping to the ground. The little girl, shocked, could only slowly turn her head to face the hard-frowning Stewart, as if unsure on what to say.

“This town's finished...!” The nameless resident merely managed out in a pained muttering, soon dropping to his bloody knees and then, finally, to the ground.

The young hunter slowly pulled himself up and attempted a light smile on his face, as if to placate the young girl.

I'm terrible with women, he thought, much less little ones.

She's going to think I'm one of them, he couldn't help but think to himself in a mixed chuckle of of his own brand of humour.

When she got to her feet and ran for the ladder he made no effort to stop her.

However when she suddenly collided with his legs in a sudden embrace.

“Wha-?”

His eyes widened in similar shock when he turned his eyes down to the little one, blinking in surprise. She gasped continually, her breath seemingly taken away from the earlier events. Similarly covered in the man's blood, she turned her tear-stricken eyes up to face him and he couldn't help but kneel down on her level, wincing as he placed his own arms softly around her form.

“Shh it's okay,” Stewart whispered as he leant down in some effort to calm her down. “You shouldn't be out here,” he advised very softly, frowning as he did so. She turned her eyes up to face his and gasped as she sniffed through her tears. “Is your home nearby?”

She nodded in her sniffs and his eyebrows lifted up in surprise, looking around for the place she had mentioned. His eyes soon focused on the lit window ahead of them both; she turned around to point directly at it, confirming his suspicions. He smiled lightly.

“Let's get you inside.”

\--

“So... you left to go search for your mother?”

His words almost seemed to echo in the modestly small household. The little girl, now cleaned up from their earlier entanglement, sat very well-behaved in her chair, small hands in her lap. He placed a small cup of tea next to her on the table sat to her side and took a seat directly across from her, frowning at her. She nodded as she took the cup in her hands blowing down on it, presumably to cool it.

“Yes...,” she murmured out as she stared down at the milky-brown liquid, a kind of sadness apparent in her eyes. “It's been days and I've been so worried,” she claimed as she brought the cup up to sip at. “Are you... a hunter?” She asked him, raising her long-blonde head with an inquisitive frown on her face. His eyes widened very lightly in soft surprise when he realised she spied his clothes.

“U-Um, yes,” he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head with his free left hand. “I'm still... not confident in my abilities yet, but...”

“Then...?”

He raised a curious eyebrow at her this time, urging her to continue.

“Would you look for my mum?” She suddenly blurted out as she leaned forward in her chair, suddenly very eager. Stewart's frown faltered in her gaze and he turned his eyes from her, apprehensive in responding to her.

“I-” He opened his mouth at first but found his words failing him. When he turned his eyes back to face her, he found her similarly turning her gaze from his, as if heavily disappointed.

When he saw that look in her eye his heart sunk.

What am I supposed to do, he thought.

For all we know she could be dead, he continued on in his head.

Regardless however, the youth put on another brave smile and re-opened his mouth.

“Sure.” He finally replied to her with in his similarly warm tone of voice. Surprised, she re-turned her eyes back up to face him and a smile re-grew on her face as quick as can be.

“Oh, thank you!” She exclaimed suddenly as she set her cup down and leapt over at him. He gasped in sudden surprise at her eagerness, leaning back in his chair as she embraced him once more. “My m-mum wears a red jewelled brooch; it's so big and beautiful,” the little girl explained eagerly in her smile as she pulled her face back from his vested chest. “Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, losing her smile in place of a surprised frown. He raised an eyebrow at her, unsure as he watched her turn and suddenly leap off his chair. “I mustn't forget!” She called out as she turned to scamper off, presumably in search of something. He tilted his head down at her, raising an eyebrow.

“F-Forget wha-?”

“If you find my mum...,” she explained very briefly as she reached under one of the long sofas in the living room before pulling out a small box. He blinked down at it, eyes narrowing. “Give her this music box!” The tiny girl smiled as she stuffed the small box in his lap. He tilted his head down at it and took it softly in his hands before turning back down to face her. “It plays one of daddy's favourite songs; mum's so silly, running off without it!” She explained very briefly in her smile.

Soon however, as if talking about her parents affected the poor little girl, she lost her smile in place of a worried frown and she turned back up to face him as she re-opened her mouth.

“Should I... come with you?”

His eyes widened at her suggestion and he made ready to respond but she continued.

“Maybe mum and dad are waiting for me where they are...” She murmured out as she lowered her eyes, gripping her left arm with her right, as if an old habit.

He pocketed her music box and leant down from his chair to place his hands on her shoulders softly, soon pulling her attention once more.

“No!” He whispered down at her, shaking his head. “It's far too dangerous out there.” Stewart explained very briefly but firmly. When he saw her turn her gaze away from his in a sad frown he winced, realising he was talking to a child.

I'm horrible at this, he couldn't help but think to himself.

“Don't worry...,” he tried to set her mind at ease with a new softer tone of voice. “I'll find her; I'll find them both,” the young hunter explained very briefly. Her smile slowly regrew on her face as she listened. “I promise.” The youth finally finished with in a light chuckle of his own, shutting his eyes very briefly at her. Her own disposition soon turned similarly sunny and, once more, she leapt up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him in.

His smile soon faltered when he was certain she could see him no longer however.

He had a very bad feeling about this one.

–

3

“Agh!” Stewart managed to gasp out, dropping to the wooden platform beneath him; his legs jarred heavily from the fall, seemingly taken some minor damage. He turned his eye up behind him and narrowed them both at the cause; a growling man-sized creature stalked him from the top before suddenly leaping down to plummet onto him.

Stewart grunted as he side-shifted to his right in order to evade the creature's rough and rusty sword; it growled angrily at him and the youth extended his Hunter's Axe with a low scowl on his face, gradually taking careful steps back behind him. The man-like form licked its lips hungrily, as if a beast on the field, as it stalked its prey watching him seemingly enraptured.

Stewart's eyes briefly darted down to the deep fall behind him and his scowl twitched lightly when he realised he was running out of wooden planks to use. Soon he found himself backing up slowly into another doorway, his extended Hunter's Axe pointed directly at his stalking enemy, still unsure on how to fight him.

Before he could even come up with a strategy however, sudden super-fast movement behind him made his eyes widen in surprise.

Wha-?

SQUELCH

The creature roared in pain as the form dashed past it, its blood sailing into the air with its pain-rending cry before, finally, it dropped to the ground, dead. Stewart's suspicious-eyed glance turned to the monster's side, only to find a dark-dressed hunter standing next to it.

Another enemy?

Maybe not...

The unknown warrior unpaired the pair of sword-like blades they carried, a noisy clang of steel erupting between them as they belted them before slowly sauntering forward.

“A hunter are ya?” She spoke to him, an older tone of voice.

A woman?

“You don't seem to have good instincts, boy...,” she admonished very lightly as she passed him; he blinked as he relaxed his hostile stance, watching her carefully. She merely stepped up the small staircase to the overlooking sewer area, soon folding her arms. He tilted his head at her and shortened his Hunter's Axe once more, belting it as he followed her, curious.

She wore a crow-like garb; of the darkest ebony and a feathery-like cape to match. Her garb underneath seemed quite similar to his own and he frowned at her peculiar mask.

She looked just like a crow, he thought to himself.

“What a mess you've been caught up in,” she chuckled over at him, her arms folded and shaking her head at him. “And tonight of all nights,” the experienced woman continued on in her seeming amusement. Stewart could only smile lightly as he rubbed the back of his head nervously, listening to her. “Oh well... here,” she began again, unfolding her arms to extend her left one forward. His eyebrows lifted as he spun his eyes around to look down at them. “To welcome the new hunter.”

Very carefully he raised his own fingers to grasp the lit up items in her own grasp, his brow furrowed down at them.

Bits of paper?

“They're Bold Hunter's Marks,” the woman spoke aloud, as if reading his curiosity-filled expression. “They allow you to reawaken at any lantern you've lit.”

“T-That's very kind of you; thank you very much,” Stewart smiled at her gratefully; she merely waved his comments off with a literal wave of her right hand, her expression unreadable behind her mask. “Um... I'm Stewart,” he introduced himself in another smile, extending his now free right hand to be shaken. She stared down at it for an uncomfortably long time before finally seemingly extending her own hand to shake his. “Thank you for saving me earlier.”

“Think nothing of it,” she merely shook her head to dismiss the matter off. “Eileen.”

He blinked at her, unsure.

“My name.” She clarified in a nod of her head, seemingly frustrated with his carelessness. Stewart couldn't help but chuckle nervously once more, briefly shutting his eyes in embarrassment as he did so.

“S-Sorry, gotcha,” he chuckled in some attempt to lift the atmosphere. “I'm still... getting to grips with everything around me.”

“You don't sound like you're from around here, do you...?” Eileen asked him in her deep tone of voice, tilting her head as she brought her arm back to fold them once more. Stewart frowned back at her, unsure on what else to say on the matter. “Where are you from?”

“I'm... not sure, I...,” he admitted, this time turning his eyes from hers, wincing lightly as he did so. “I have no memory of this place.”

“Hrm... I see,” she intoned out toward him before turning her mask-covered face to watch the sewers on her left, arms still folded. “Seems to be a thing with hunters,” she continued through her peculiar accent, a frown in her words. “Well, the point is, ye're here now,” Eileen re-adjusted her words as she re-turned to face him. “You should prepare yourself for the worst.”

“Why is-?”

“There are no humans left in Yharnam,” she explained to him dryly and very briefly. “They're all flesh-hungry beasts now.”

“I-I see...” Stewart murmured out in a light wince. She seemingly raised an eyebrow behind her mask in the tone of her next words.

“You sound... upset?”

“Um...,” he murmured once more, unsure on how to broach the topic; he re-raised his eyes to face hers and frowned. “Do you know the name... Gascoigne?”

“Yes, I do actually,” she shot back suddenly, eliciting a wide-eyed frown from the listening youth. “The priest? Father Gascoigne?”

“So he's a priest...,” Stewart murmured, more to himself than to anyone else before re-facing her. “Of the Healing Church?” He questioned; she seemed to narrow her eyes suspiciously at him beneath her mask.

“Yes...,” she confirmed for him in her hard tone of voice. Stewart nodded dutifully as he listened and she tilted her head to her side horizontally as she continued. “I won't ask why you're asking such strange questions... but...,” she began on before finally finishing her statement. “You should focus more on your own duties as a hunter.”

“I'm sorry,” he apologised over at her, rubbing the back of his head in a display of his old habit. “Thank you for helping me... and for your information.”

“Just... keep your hands clean, won't you?” Eileen shook her head at him as she watched him carefully. He blinked at her, unsure on her words' connotations. “Your job is to kill beasts... not people.”

“Oh!” Stewart gasped out, surprised. He chuckled, shaking his head at her. “It's... okay, I don't intend to kill anyone with a sane mind.”

“Good,” the experienced warrior nodded in satisfaction. “See that you don't.”

\--

Eileen's words stayed with the youth, even as he made the final approach to the clearing up the staircase. He narrowed his eyes up at the surrounding area of gravestones and darted them around at the place, unsure on its intention.

A tomb, perhaps?

When he walked forward to enter the arena his eyes widened when he heard the sudden sound of blade mixing with flesh; darting them to his far right he found the hunched form of a hunter-garbed form looming over a group of fallen corpses.

What the-?

“Beasts all over the shop...,” the man began, his voice low and seemingly dangerous. Stewart's instincts took over and his eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening in response. “You'll be one of them, sooner or later...” He continued on as he gradually swivelled his body and his head 'round to face his provocateur. When Stewart finally got a look in at his new target, he drank his appearance in as quickly as he could.

Long greyed white hair rested underneath the peculiar-style fedora hat he wore. He seemed to wear traditional hunter gear adorned with special marks associated with the very place Stewart was now chasing.

The Healing Church?

“Father Gascoigne, is it?” He tried forward, his brow furrowing as he watched the man breathe heavily beneath his hat.

He didn't look sane.

“I know you're in there,” Stewart called forward, his voice lowering a little as he reached for his Hunter's Axe on his belt. Extending it forward with a noisy grind he glared back at his scowling, fang-toothed enemy. “I promised to bring you back...,” he continued on as he rose the axe upward very slowly before soon bringing it back down to face his new opponent. “And that's exactly what I'm gonna do!” The young hunter declared determinedly, pointing his axe at his enemy.

I may talk a big game, Stewart thought to himself, small bead of sweat of anticipation running down his forehead...

… but what happens when he corners me?


	4. Hungry Like the Wolf

Chapter 4: Hungry Like the Wolf  
Gascoigne Clan Investigation Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: “As Humans” - Naruto Shippuden Ultimate Ninja Storm III OST. Scene 1 (First & Second Halves).  
“Father Gascoigne” - Bloodborne OST. Scene 2 (First Half).  
“Haku Ending” - Naruto Ultimate Ninja OST. Scene 2 (Second Half).

–

In his investigation of one of the last remaining alive clans left in Yharnam, Stewart receives more than he bargains for in the form of the now seemingly insane form of Father Gascoigne, old priest of the Healing Church. Unfortunately for the new young hunter, in his promise to Gascoigne's remaining child, he has promised to bring the older and unstable man back with him.

Having met and received information both from the daughter of the clan and of an old woman by the name of Eileen, Stewart can only speculate as to the events surrounding Yharnam's seeming wreck as a whole.

With the expectant and concerned words of the little Gascoigne girl, Stewart's heart remains heavy as he finally clashes his own Hunter's Axe with his enemy's.

Fate, it would seem, is not without a sense of irony.

–

Scene 1

Father Gascoigne let out a built-up roar as he leapt forward in an unsubtle jump attack with his shortened Hunter's Axe; Stewart's eyes narrowed as he quickstepped to his left in relatively easy evasion. The former priest turned his fang-grinned expression on the running youth before chuckling lowly as he dragged his axe across the cement floor beneath him, spitting up rocks and small boulders as he did so.

The steel ground noisily against the firm pavement beneath them; the small rocks and pebbles spit up by his physical force soon flew in the youth's face.

A distract attempt?

Gascoigne re-appeared in his face, a mad grin on his bearded face, his own Hunter's Axe drawn and extended. Stewart's eyes widened and he gasped as he shot his own extended weapon down to clash with his new enemy's.

CLANG

The two began a weapon struggle together, Gascoigne in a chuckling and low grin and his younger opponent in a narrow-eyed frown of effort. The former priest let out an audibly enjoying inward sigh, as if taking something in.

“What's that smell...?” The seemingly foreign hunter intoned out lowly; Stewart's eyebrow shot up in curiosity as he listened, barely holding his enemy back. “The sweet blood, oh...,” he continued on, pushing the grunting Stewart a step back in his grip. “It sings to me...” The former priest boldly claimed before grunting, seemingly in a mix of anger and effort, as he pushed against the youth's own blade. Stewart gasped as he was forced back the way he came; he recovered his form with a gentle and deft back-flip, landing in a light grunt; pain jarred at his limbs.

This one was strong.

“It's enough to make a man sick...” Gascoigne continued to explain briefly as he smirked over at the narrow-eyed hunter, advancing on him very slowly.

Stewart's eyes narrowed once more; this was his chance. Suddenly breaking into a deft run, he kept his form low and made to go for a spinning slash attack. Even in spite of his extended Hunter's Axe however, the older and seemingly more experienced warrior unexpectedly shot out his Hunter's Pistol; Stewart's eyes widened but it was far too late to cancel his attack.

BANG

The youth gasped, knocked full on his knees by the sudden and well-timed force of his enemy's pistol. Gascoigne's eyes lit up, as if a child spying his toy, and quickstepped forward to follow up on the inevitable counter-attack. Horror began to gnaw at the watching Stewart, unable to intervene in any way before... finally...

SQUELCH-SMASH

“Ha, ha...” Gascoigne's surprisingly low voice began, muffled in the ears of the pain-stricken Stewart; the poor youth's eyes shot wide open, unable to do anything in response as Gascoigne's arm wrenched at his insides. “Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!” The former priest finally gave vent to a much louder group of laughs, seemingly truly maddened.

Stewart was sent flying across the battle arena, crashing past at least two gravestones in the tomb. Boulders of their headstones were sent careering as he rolled into them, blood-covered and pained. He could only gasp in the effort to remain alive and conscious, the darkened form of Gascoigne ahead of him soon turning blurry.

He was strong... too strong.

I can't do this, he thought to himself.

Not in the traditional sense anyway.

His badly-shaking left hand reached for one of his many blood vials; grasping Iosefka's by happy accident he couldn't help but feel elation as he stuck the syringe in his right leg.

As he had expected, the pain almost immediately passed and he was given a short sense of euphoria.

He could see why men like Gascoigne had turned to the blood in their insanity.

I can't end up like him, he thought to himself determinedly.

“Now... how to fight you...?” He murmured out as he wiped at the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, pulling himself back up; small rocks and pebbles of the earlier gravestones soon knocked themselves off of his body.

There must be some way I can take you by surprise, Stewart thought to himself wonderingly.

If my enemy is stronger than I am...

… then I must adapt accordingly, he thought onwards.

“If you can tell when my attack is coming... a well placed gunshot will open me up for a visceral attack.”

His mentor's words rung loud and clear in his memories.

Fine, he thought, shortening his own Hunter's Axe with a determined scowl on his face.

If Gascoigne wants a fight to the death...

“Then you're gonna get one!”

~

CLANG

Though it worsened the new deafening headache threatening to burst apart his current consciousness, Stewart stayed the course and exclaimed a yell of effort with the laughing Father Gascoigne, leaping forward to clash his weapon with his opponent's once more. The two glared one another down between the fiery sparks their axes produced before, finally, Stewart pushed off of his enemy. Surprised, Gascoigne's grin was lost to him and he narrowed his eyes forward, watching the younger hunter quickstep suddenly to his right, disappearing from common view completely.

Gascoigne let out a long and slow exhale of air; the wintery season seemed to become apparent with the appearance of cold air from his mouth. Alerted suddenly however, Gascoigne about-turned and brought his extended axe up to block the incoming throwing knives.

Three of them, at least.

They clanged noisily as they bounced harmlessly off his weapon and Gascoigne found his confident smirk returning to his face. He made ready to open his mouth, presumably to taunt his opponent but, before he could he felt the sound of his opponent rushing him again.

But from where?

Seemingly leaping from the building behind them both, Stewart's eyes widened as he smashed his Hunter's Axe into the back of the man's widened-eyed head.

“Argh!” The former priest gasped out; blood flew satisfyingly from the wound-area. Stewart's own eyes widened a second time, perhaps surprised he actually connected his attack; the angry Gascoigne turned his eyes around and swung his Hunter's Axe diagonally upward to connect with his enemy's form. Stewart's eyes re-narrowed and he pushed against the grunting older man's head to back-flip off of, landing in a graceful grunt of his own.

Knelt down in his landing position, Stewart watched the injured Gascoigne about-turn once more, this time in a hateful glare, incited by his opponent's small victory over him.

This is where things get dicey, the younger hunter thought to himself concernedly.

“I didn't think there'd be any of you left...,” the dark-expressed hunter growled forward as he slowly began to advance on the narrow-eyed Stewart. “That look in your eye...,” he muttered on as he glared past his large hat. “I know that look from anywhere...,” the bearded warrior chuckled, a small grin restoring to his expression. “A beast's look if I ever saw one!” Gascoigne finally ended with an effort-filled shout, breaking into a sudden run for his younger enemy.

Stewart, again, deftly jumped to his feet and quickstepped around to hide himself behind some still raised gravestones. Still undeterred by his opponent's actions, Gascoigne roared with effort as he attempted to rake the youth through the stones; utilising his advantageous position, Stewart pulled his now extended Hunter's Axe back in preparation. This time it was Gascoigne's turn to widen his eyes in horror but it was far too late to do anything about it; Stewart's own eyes widened in a contrasting way as he finally pushed his body in a double-spin-slash attack.

SQUELCH-SMASH

Gascoigne let out a pained roar as he was struck by the full ferocity of the fearsome attack, sending him rolling across the cement. Stewart gasped with effort as he pulled his weapon back to his side, shortening it once more as he advanced on his fallen enemy. His head still ached horribly but he attempted to ignore it.

“Now will you listen to me?!” The indignant-afflicted youth called over in a mix of frustration and impatience. The fallen Gascoigne made no sound in his fallen position, his back to him. “Your daughter sent me!” Stewart called over loudly enough that he was certain his words were heard.

No reaction.

Stewart's eyes narrowed forward. “Come to your senses!” The younger fighter exclaimed angrily as he stood over the older man's fallen body. “You will not make me kill you; I refuse to!”

–

2

In spite of his echoing words, the ground seemed to rumble strangely. His hardened frown gave way to an unsure brow-furrowing.

What was-?

It grew stronger with each passing second before, finally, Gascoigne began to growl beneath him. Stewart's eyes widened.

He couldn't still be-?

No!

SMASH

An explosion rent the air alongside a much lower tone in Gascoigne's voice; an animal-like roar of effort. Stewart gasped as he was sent flying off his feet, rolling across the cement-floor in a grunt from the sheer force his enemy exuded. When he re-opened his eyes however he found the leaping form of a werewolf-like form looming over him. Stewart's eyes widened and he pushed up off the ground with as much sudden force as he could muster, barely avoiding the growling beast's angry claw attack. It turned its head to face him and Stewart could only stare in pure abject horror at what Gascoigne had seemingly become.

His shawl on his Healing Church attire had been ate away at in the transformation along with the rest of his clothes, leaving only his cape and lower trousers, both tattered to shreds. Long and sharpened nails elongated from both his exposed beast-like feet and similarly his now monster-like claws. His facial expression was now devoid of all humanity, leaving only a beast's roaring face, carrying only his greyed white hair all over.

Has the hunt truly affected him like this?

What am I supposed to tell her, he thought.

His heart sank in growing despair, attempting to ignore his infernal headaches as he stared back at the slow-approaching form of Gascoigne.

I can't kill you, he thought in growing desperation and anguish...

… but I may have to.

With little other time to think to himself, the beast before him leapt for the youth, a hungry look in its eyes hidden behind its fur. Stewart's own eyes widened when he saw it fast-approaching; he back-stepped as fast as he could to avoid the clawed rake Gascoigne attempted to hit him with. Multiple gravestones around them were rent asunder from the sheer strength that Gascoigne now commanded.

Was this how strong people became under the influence of the old blood?

Surprising him once more during his ruminations however, the beast growled as it clawed lowly to grab at his leg; Stewart gasped, taken by surprise fell to his rear, undefended and all. He shot up his Hunter's Axe to block the inevitable roaring vertical clawed strike.

CLANG

Stewart grunted with the effort of attempting to push back at his enemy's own struggle but it seemed impossible; with Gascoigne's sudden jump in strength, it didn't look good. Soon enough and finally however the creature above him gave one final effort-filled roar as it managed to break through its victim's guard.

“Gugh...!” Stewart managed out in a pained grunt, his eyes widening and his mouth laying gape open; Gascoigne's left claw ripped directly through the youth's frontal chest, blood pouring from both the wound and the attack weapon. The former priest gave another growl as it lifted the wide-eyed hunter before finally spinning around and tossing the gasping Stewart across the air.

The poor youth was sent spiralling through the air and crashed through yet more headstones as he landed in a blood-covered spinning roll. Finally however, his sailing stopped as the large stone structure in the centre of the arena managed to halt him. Pain shot through every part of his body as he lay in a crumpled-heap of a mess, gasping to stay conscious; he barely heard the muffled sound of Gascoigne's next angry scream. Re-opening his eyes and raising them up he could find the blurry form rushing for his fallen body.

Blood vials, he thought.

Now.

Reaching again into his clothes he barely had enough time to stick a syringe in before the enemy's blurry form came into focus.

Right in his face.

His mentor's sagely advice was the last thing to ring through his head; he grabbed his Hunter's Pistol and raised it up.

BANG

As he had half-expected the running form of Gascoigne suddenly came to a complete stop; his gasping and grunting made it obvious he didn't quite follow what was happening and, sure enough, he knelt down in a suggestive position.

Now!

His morale re-focused, Stewart took the only chance left to him; he pushed himself up off the ground, quickstepped forward and stuck his now free right palm into the gunshot wound-area he had caused, eyes similarly widened.

SQUELCH

Their mouths both hung open in similar shock and surprise before Stewart finally finished his counter-attack; he grunted as he tossed his enemy forward from his successful visceral attack. Gascoigne gave one final and echoing whimpering scream, smashing painfully into the gravestones he once used otherwise.

The sailing blood from the disappearing form of his enemy made him realise it was the killing blow.

His combat high almost immediately dissipated when the words he remembered so readily from his encounter with the Cleric Beast raged in his mind.

“Prey Slaughtered.”

~

As soon as he had finished Father Gascoigne, Stewart at least had all the time in the world available to him to mope.

And mope he did.

How am I to face her now, he thought.

“Don't worry... I'll find her; I'll find them both. I promise.”

His words.

In his investigation of the Oedon Tomb he managed to find the corpse of a blonde woman lying on a platform not far from the area where he fought earlier.

He had only one way of confirming it was the girl's mother.

The red jewelled brooch that the girl mentioned was on her corpse.

Not only was she deceased as he had feared but he himself had killed her father and not mere minutes after promising her otherwise.

“I'm sorry...,” he murmured out as he stared down at the fallen corpse of her mother. “I'm so-”

His words were soon interrupted however; his eyes widened in a similar gasp when he heard the sound of music.

Where-?

His memory caught up with him when he reached into his clothes for the source of it, bringing out a music box.

Perhaps the only thing that saved his life.

Stewart stared down sadly at it, laid open previously in the recesses of his pockets. Its melody played a sad kind of harmony that added to the melancholy of the atmosphere around him. He closed it slowly as he shut his eyes lightly, pocketing it once more before turning his eyes over to the large gated doors behind him. Eyeing in the key he received from Gascoigne's corpse in his hands, he narrowed his eyes up at the tomb's final doors.

Have to keep moving, he thought.


	5. An Old Friend

Chapter 5: An Old Friend  
Healing Church Hunt Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.

Featured Music: “Hunter's Dream” - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
“The Funk Goes On” - Yakuza OST. Scene 3 (Second Half).  
“The Best is Yet to Come (Instrumental)” - Metal Gear Solid OST. Scene 4.

–

With determination burning in his blade, Stewart's wills clash with that of fellow hunter and priest of the Healing Church, Father Gascoigne. His search for the little girl's father, though begins in success, ends in abject failure; in his confrontation with the man he discovers he is in a horrible state indeed. He is forced to fight with the man and to the death; Father Gascoigne demonstrates terrible example of corruption and blind rage to the hunt.

Is this what becomes of those who are drunk with blood?

Stewart can only speculate.

As his quest stands however, his own pursuit of information and lead from his new friend Gilbert has at least succeeded; with the key he has obtained from Gascoigne, Stewart presses on to the fabled and once cut off Cathedral Ward...

–

Scene 1

Stewart's left eye twitched for the umpteenth time as he took a right after ascending the small staircase directly after the gated doors he had opened earlier.

The headaches were getting more severe now, he thought to himself as he 'rounded the corner into a shallow pool of water.

Maybe I should go see doctor Iosefka at some point, he ruminated once more.

He grunted in the annoying pain as he trudged on through, reaching a ladder. Climbing on up he attempted to rid himself of the pestilent dilemma his consciousness dealt with. Soon however as he entered and passed through the wooden tables littered throughout the new area, his eye suddenly caught a shining note in the left corner of the room.

Raising a curious eyebrow he put his headaches out of mind momentarily before soon striding over to stand directly above the well-written note. His eyes narrowed down at it.

The Byrgenwerth spider hides all manner of rituals, and keeps our lost master from us. A terrible shame. It makes my head shudder uncontrollably.

Stewart blinked.

Byrgenwerth...?

So familiar...

Byrgenwerth... Butcher...?

His headaches suddenly peaked and at a sharp inclination as well; Stewart gasped and in a mix of anger at them and frustration he leaned forward to grasp at the table below him for stability. A small bead of sweat dropped from his forehead, his eyes shutting in a grit-toothed effort to remain conscious.

What on earth?

The 'Byrgenwerth Butcher'?

Who the hell is that?

Long forgotten memories perhaps?

He shook his head of his tired ruminations and turned on his heel to walk forward, affixing the new fedora hat he took from Gascoigne.

A constant reminder of his failure to do better in the future.

Reaching forward into the chest on his way to the small staircase he frowned down inside it to find a strange tool.

Something for the workshop in the Hunter's Dream?

Maybe.

Finally ascending the small spiralling staircase ahead of him however he put on another frown as he reached for the double doors before him. Pushing them apart with a light effort-filled grunt he set them to the sides and walked forward, his anticipation heightening. As he walked through he quickly spied a long vertical group of windows at the top, suggesting a church-like background. To his left stood a long chandelier-like structure complete with already lit candles and to his right stood a strange and suggestive priest-like statue, looming over him as he walked through the area.

Turning his eyes forward and ahead of himself he spied the large area rather well designed with a notable lantern in the centre, presumably for him.

Leading to the Hunter's Dream?

Perhaps.

The sound of a far-off bell made him turn his eyes upward to the trio of long windows overlooking the church.

“... Hmm? Oh... you must be... a hunter.”

Stewart's eyes widened and his eyes snapped to his right; when he saw the horrifying sight on his right his arms instinctively went for the Hunter's Axe hanging on his tool-belt, however, when he watched the small form below him stare curiously upward his eyes narrowed.

It wasn't a monster?

But then...?

“Very sorry, the incense must've masked your scent,” the crimson robe wearing creature spoke, a seemingly common voice to it and all. “Good, good! I've been waiting for one of your ilk.”

One of my ilk?

One of my kind, he thought in a translation.

Who was this thing?

It was ugly, no doubt but...

Was it hostile?

“These hunts have everyone all locked up inside,” the hunched man continued on, his cloudy eyes not quite meeting with Stewart's. “Waiting for it to end... it always does, always has, y'know. Since forever.” The nameless man smiled in his brief explanation; his smile soon faltered to a seemingly worried frown however as he continued. “But it won't end very nicely, not this time. Even some folks hiding inside are goin' bad,” he explained on in his concerned frown. “The screams of wimminfolk, the stench of blood, the snarls of beasts... none of 'em's too uncommon now. Yharnam's done fer I tell ya.” he said with a strange sense of sadness to his tone.

His cloudy eyes lit up in another warm smile however as he re-raised them to near face the curious and listening Stewart.

“But if you spot anyone with their wits about 'em... tell 'em about this here Oedon Chapel.”

Oedon Chapel, he thought.

Is that what this place is called?

Stewart's eyes involuntarily scanned the area around as he listened to the small, hunched over man continue his words.

“They'll be safe here. The incense wards off the beasts,” he claimed onwards in his warm smile. “Spread the word... tell 'em to come on over. If you wouldn't mind...” The little man ended with a light chuckle, elongating into a seemingly nervous and suspicious laugh. Stewart raised a curious eyebrow down at the little man.

I'm not sure what to make of this one, he thought to himself.

He seems okay...

“Oh I'm sorry,” the little man chuckled once more, this time rubbing one of his claw-like hands over his head, as if embarrassed. “I've been monopolising the conversation,” the yet nameless priest continued on before smiling once more. “I am Noah,” he finally introduced himself with. “What is your name stranger?”

“U-Um... Stewart...” The young hunter could only manage out as he took his hand off the Hunter's Axe on his belt, finally relaxing himself.

“Stewart!” The little man exclaimed out enthusiastically, surprising the youth once more. “What a nice name...,” he complimented in another seemingly nervous chuckle to himself. “This place can act as a haven for you while you're out there mister hunter,” he continued on in his well-intentioned smile. “It's not just for us civilians!”

“I'm... glad,” Stewart chuckled, similarly anxiously. “Um, can I ask a question?”

“Of course! Anything!”

His enthusiasm surprised him but nevertheless Stewart soldiered on.

“Would this happen to be... the Cathedral Ward?” He asked, raising a curious eyebrow upward as he did so. “I was told to come in this direction, so...”

“Oh!” Noah exclaimed, losing his smile momentarily before it soon regrew on his expression. “It is mister hunter; this is where the Healing Church are located,” he explained very briefly. “Your information was correct!”

“Thanks,” Stewart chuckled, this time in grateful gratification. “I'll do what I can out there.”

~

Even while he strode out the front exit of the chapel his nerves remained on edge as his eyes scanned the area.

Seemed quiet.

Almost too quiet.

A run-down cart lay a few yards ahead of him to his right, seemingly blocking whatever he could see past it. Further up from that on his right lay a long staircase and he eyed the gates above it hungrily. Before he could even continue his examinations however, an interruption of movement made him sharply turn his widened-eyed head to his left.

CLANG

His Hunter's Axe was out in a moment's notice and clashed noisily with the ebony form on his near undefended left.

A sword?

Curved and all; he recognised the steel on that blade and so did his seeming enemy. When he turned his eyes down to mix with his opponent's he soon put on a light smile to match hers.

Eileen.

“Oh, hello there...,” she greeted, as if unnerved entirely by their chance encounter. She spun the steel blade in her possession into the air as she pulled it back thusly into her feathery coat before soon folding her arms as she seemed to before. Stewart, grateful for the appearance of a newer friendly face, smiled as he approached her overlooking the railing and the cliff below them. “It seems yer reactions have gotten better since last time.”

Stewart couldn't help but chuckle good naturedly, rubbing the back of his head below his hat as he did so. “I guess I've gotten stronger since the last time we met.”

“I can see that,” Eileen claimed as she nodded her head upward at him, her body still facing the railing. She still donned the same mask he recognised from her before. “You actually look the part now.”

Her second compliment actually surprised him; he blinked before turning his eyes down to examine himself.

He wore a long collared trench garb around his front, like a coat and similarly dark-shaded to protect his cover in the dead of night. The similarly designed gloves and trousers he wore to go with them seemed to compliment well to his dark-brown stubble on his face and chin as well as the long dark-brown hair dropped across the two sides of his face.

“Thanks,” he finally responded with in his good-natured chuckle, his eyes briefly shut as he did so. “What are you doing here?”

“I could very well ask you the same question,” the older woman shot back, a seeming grin behind her words and her mask. Stewart at first blinked innocently back at her before realising the meaning of her words; he couldn't help but chuckle once more back at her. “How did your investigation go? Did you find Gascoigne?”

His lit up smile left him and he turned his sad-eyed frown back down to the cobbled streets below them both. She raised her eyebrow behind her mask and re-opened her mouth to press him.

“It didn't go well?”

“N-No...,” he merely answered with as he re-raised his eyes to face hers. “His daughter asked of me to find him and... find him I did but...”

“I see...,” Eileen murmured out, her tone lowering to a similar decibel as to his. She turned her masked face to stare back out at the endless metropolis in the silvery moonlight before them both. “I was worried I'd have to turn on him myself.”

It was Stewart's turn to raise an eyebrow at her words. “Turn on him?”

“Yes... I'm a hunter of hunters y'see,” she reiterated, as if having explained this to everyone she had ever met. “When those of us become far too blood-drunk... there are hunters like me to put an end to them.”

“Oh, I see...,” the youth nodded in quiet understanding. “Um... yes, Father Gascoigne was...”

“Falling apart,” Eileen finished for him in a light sigh of her own as she re-faced the endless background before them. “I'm sure it had to be done.”

Her words, though reassuring in their friendship, did little to ease the guilt gnawing silently away at him.

“Reminds me...”

She brought him out of his ruminations with a surprised blink from him; he turned his head up once more to face her as she did the same.

“I must warn you... not to go near the tomb below Oedon Chapel,” she requested in her frowning tone. Stewart could only raise an eyebrow at her words. “Henryk, an old hunter, has gone mad,” she elucidated in her folded armed stare. “And he's my mark...” The old warrior claimed, an eye-narrowing to her words as she spoke.

What if I have to go down there though, he thought to himself.

He vaguely remembered an old woman's angry mutterings living close to the sewers and he had missed her in his investigation of the Gascoigne clan.

He'd have to pass through the Tomb of Oedon to get down there again.

Maybe I can just avoid this Henryk?

Stealth was the name of the game.

“Sure,” he agreed in his warm smiling nod. “Are you sure you don't need any help, or?”

“Quite sure,” the experienced warrior chuckled good-naturedly. “This is my job after all.”

–

2

He pulled his Hunter's Axe from his belt as he stalked through the darkness of the night. Having opened the long gated door behind him, Stewart's attention was now focused on the similarly prowling man through the Cathedral Ward's inner streets. His official wear seemed to suggest a connection to the Healing Church.

An operative perhaps?

With no other thoughts running through his mind he stalked up behind the man as he halted walking before raising up his shortened axe. It gave a single bright flash, barely alerting the grunting man before, finally, Stewart brought it crashing down on the crown of his head.

SMASH

The man could only gasp in the extreme pain he suffered as he dropped to his knees from the force his enemy exuded. Stewart followed up his visceral attack with a grin on his face; the combat high run adrenaline through his system and his mind, taking him on a literal high as he squelched his fist through the man's back-flesh. The poor victim was sent careering forward, leaving him deceased and helpless. Stewart gasped as he took his right hand back, his effort finally showing promise.

Gehrman-sensei would be proud, he thought to himself.

He frowned this time however as he attempted to rid himself of the blood that filled his cape-less garb and his face, stepping down the small staircases ahead of him. The lit window on his left made him double-take and his eyes similarly lit up.

Survivors?

He wondered.

“Hello?” He called forward as he approached the first window and small lamp carefully, eyebrow raised upward as he did so. His eyes looked around it, as if to see through the cloudy bright light somehow. “Is anyone there?”

“You... you're not from around here, are ya?”

Stewart blinked when he heard the muffled man's voice behind the window.

His mood shot up to match the brightness of the window.

Someone he could help!

“What, an outsider who's come to join the hunt? What a pathetic idea...”

His voice, seemingly narrow and suspicious, took Stewart off guard; the youth drew his face back, slightly hurt from his comments.

“You what? What, you think I'm a beast?” His nameless voice asked, seemingly curious and all. “Well maybe I think you're a beast!” He accused onward, his voice sharp and biting. Stewart lowered his eyes, unsure on what to say in response. “And step away from my castle!”

Gladly, he thought to himself.

“Oh, darling?”

The next voice's sudden and soft interruption caused him to blink in surprise a second time; he 'rounded his head to his left.

A woman?

She smiled over at him warmly, clearly inviting him in her home with a pull of her index finger, the door half-way opened.

He stood there, transfixed in a suspicious frown of his own.

Should I...?

I haven't been let down just yet, he thought to himself.

All right, let's do it.

~

“Oh, my, what a queer scent,” the blonde woman spoke over her shoulder with a grin in her words. Stewart stared at her back as he followed her dutifully, his Hunter's Axe and Hunter's Pistol hanging on his belt. He removed his hat and placed it on the woman's hat-rack as he walked into the small foyer before soon resuming his walk. “But I'd take it over the stench of blood and beasts any day.” She continued on as she chuckled, turning a corner as she did so. As Stewart followed her his eyes scanned the modest living room she walked into.

Seemed quite spacious considering the outside, he thought to himself.

“Milk and two?”

He blinked and turned his long-haired head up to face her.

“Uh?”

“For your tea dear.” The nameless woman chuckled once more.

“O-Oh, sorry,” he similarly chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, his nerves biting at him. “U-Um, sure, thank you.” He managed out. As she turned again to face him he finally got a good look at her.

A relatively tall woman, her stature seemed to suit her; she wore a loose but well designed crimson-red dress decorated with a regal-like sense to it as if to imply a heritage of some kind. A dark tree-brown colour came down in the centre of her dress to match the rest of her old-time clothes, complimenting them well and her long blonde hair came down to her shoulders, a similar style to his own.

All in all, she was quite beautiful.

Turning from him presumably to enter her kitchen, the swing door jumped to and fro as she passed through, leaving him to his own devices. He scanned his eyes around the room and found some basic necessities lying around; a grandfather clock in the corner and a modest fireplace burning away. He opted to take a seat on one of the smaller chairs next to him, feeling a little out of place.

At least she didn't bite his head off like the last survivor did, he thought to himself.

The nameless woman came back through carrying two cups as he had expected. He smiled up at her nervously as he pried the first cup she offered him, raising it to his lips.

Still warm.

She smiled similarly as she sat herself down on the long sofa to his side, placing her own cup on the coffee table dead ahead. The woman kept the warm smile on her face as she turned her eyes to face him before chuckling and patting down on the sofa next to her invitingly.

“I won't bite dear.” She offered in her humorous chuckle; the tone of her joking words made him feel quite stupid.

… Should I...?

For all I know she could be trying to lull me into a false sense of security, he thought to himself.

No, he thought, you're being too suspicious.

It's probably no-where as suspicious as you think.

He could only chuckle similarly before agreeing in a nod as he got up and strode over to join her on the sofa. He sat down nervously next to her and, as she did, placed his own cup down next to hers.

“Arianna.” She spoke as she smiled over at him. He blinked back at her, his own smile temporarily faltering.

“Uh?”

“My name, silly.” The blonde woman chortled at him, seemingly good-naturedly.

“O-Oh, sorry,” the youth could only laugh back, rubbing the back of his head in another display of his bad habit. “U-Um, Stewart.”

“It's nice to meet you dear.” She spoke softly over at him, her eyes scanning him up and down thoughtfully. He stared back at her, eyebrow raising up.

What was she looking for?

“So...,” the blonde woman started once more as she scooted closer to him. His frown intensified as he watched her, unsure on her motivations. “Shall we begin...?” She spoke, this time with a low grin as she forward; her hands softly brushed against the hunter's garb he wore and he couldn't help but double-take up at her.

What in the world?

“U-Um, what are you-?”

“This is why you're here, yes?” Arianna suggested at him, her face now within kissing distance. His eyes widened back at her, unsure how to respond. “Normally I'm off during hunts but you're not that bad looking, so...” Her words trailed off softly as she came even closer, seemingly intending on further action. Stewart gasped as he wrenched back from her suddenly, surprised. His eyes widened as he stared back at her, blinking and she lost her smile as she watched him. Arching a quizzical eyebrow up at him she could only watch him strangely.

“W-Wha-? Off during hunts? What do you mean? I don't under-”

Her smile soon returned to her but this time a bit more derisive than before. “You haven't realised?”

“R-Realised what?” He parroted again, tilting his head back at her, his nerves stressed. “I'm not following, I...”

“Not very bright are you...,” she chuckled as she turned to grasp her cup laying on the coffee table from before. “I'm a harlot darling.”

He blinked back at her, shocked and surprised. Finally however the meaning of her words hit him like a ton of bricks and he turned his eyes away from her, wincing in red-shaded embarrassment. She could only laugh in response.

“Not without your charms I see though,” Arianna opted to compliment him with as she placed her cup back down, re-facing him. “Very sorry; I didn't mean to scare you off.”

“I-It's fine,” the young hunter chuckled back in an embarrassed smile, shaking his head of the matter. “It's my fault; I should have realised.”

She merely smiled back at him for a second or two before re-opening her mouth to respond. “So you're a hunter are you?” Arianna asked as she looked him up and down once more, seemingly curious. Stewart's own smile fell in place of a similarly curious frown. “Your accent... very queer indeed; you're not from here are you?”

“Oh, um...,” Stewart murmured out before nodding in affirmation, smiling. “Y-Yes.”

“Then...,” Arianna replied with a frown this time, scooting closer once more toward him, seemingly this time with a different intention. Her soft fingers joined together at her lap as she stared back at him. “Might you know of a safe place?” She asked and his eyebrows lifted up in recognition. “I've only so much incense left and the night is long. Please, there must be some nice place to run off to?”

Stewart frowned back at her, his memory quickly replaying Noah's words from the Oedon Chapel.

There was he thought, a smile slowly appearing on his countenance. He nodded in response.

“Do you know... of the Oedon Chapel?”

This time it was her turn to blink. She tilted her head at him strangely before her furrowed brow relaxed, her eyebrows lifting back up as if in recognition.

“Ah, yes of course!” Arianna exclaimed out, a smile appearing on her own face. She chuckled gratefully as she reached her left hand forward. Stewart's eyes watched her soft fingers slowly lay on his own lying right hand; surprised, he turned his eyes up to face hers. “Oh thank you darling,” she smiled over at him. “Perhaps I'll see you there?”

His cheeks reddened once more in some sense of embarrassment but quickly reiterated to himself in his mind.

She'd probably do this with anyone he thought to himself, a strange tinge of disappointment in his mood.

Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches, he thought.

–

3

Stewart's eyes narrowed forward at the thick, inky blackness of the night, barely finding the mauve-coloured form through the gravestones before him.

Eileen was correct; someone else was here.

This Henryk fellow perhaps?

If I can sneak past him... then maybe I can avoid fighting altogether.

And that's if he's as hostile as Eileen claims, he thought.

So then why is he here?

Apparently he once partnered with Gascoigne... could he be here to investigate his death?

He could be here... for me, he thought chillingly.

Stewart shook his head of his ruminations and re-steeled his nerves as he bent his body downward to fit in further with the cover of night. His eyes stayed locked on to the standing form of the thus far silent Henryk, barely making a noise in his movement. His mistake however was his unfortunate reliance on his eyes; as he snuck forward he bumped into a gravestone and some small rocks that were knocked forward caused enough noise to make the man finally turn his head.

Oh no, Stewart thought to himself, his eyes widening in sudden horror.

Almost immediately the silent Henryk quickstepped to his position and went for a close swipe with his Saw Cleaver, eyes narrowing past his yellow hunter's cap. Stewart grimaced lightly as he back-stepped in evasion to avoid the man's quick movements.

Here we go...

~

As his words reverberated across the walls of his consciousness, Stewart pulled out his Hunter's Axe and narrowed his eyes at the man before him.

Who was he, really?

Why was he so desperate to kill him?

“We don't need to do this!” He attempted to throw forward, eyes narrowing. Henryk didn't seem to listen; he walked slowly around the multiple gravestones blocking his way forward, presumably to catch up to the backing form of his opponent. “Come on, talk to me!” Stewart called over angrily, gritting his teeth as he narrowed his eyes forward.

Again, Henryk made no inclination that he was listening.

“Tch!” Stewart tutted out in a mix of frustration and impatience as his enemy finally came within range once more.

CLANG

Henryk's Saw Cleaver clashed noisily with Stewart's own horizontally raised Hunter's Axe; transformed vertically and aimed similarly to smash down upon the youth. Stewart's own defence was soon failing him however and he gasped continually as he was brought down to his left knee, a bead of effort-filled sweat dripping from his brow.

“Can't... die... here...!”

BANG

His silent thoughts were soon interrupted however with the sound of an extremely loud gunshot; his eyes widened and the clashing two snapped their heads to their two sides to find the quickstepping feathery coated form of Eileen fast approaching. Stewart's eyes lit up in a smile and, as Eileen came within range, Henryk grunted as he was forced to break the hold from the youth, allowing Stewart to finally recover from his enemy's frightening offence.

The youth gasped, forcing himself up on his legs; his eyes narrowed as he watched Henryk back-step the leaping Eileen's sword slash. Soon he found himself with no ground to evade back from and he simply brought out his Hunter's Pistol out to punish the fast-approaching Eileen. Stewart's eyes widened.

No!

Thinking only to save her from the gunshot, Stewart leapt forward and crashed his body with the similarly grunting form of Henryk; the mauve-dressed hunter snapped his eyes 'round to glare heatedly at the wide-eyed form of Stewart. The pair passed through a weakened gravestone, sending stone and boulders strewn across the cobbled floor. As Henryk landed to the ground in a swift quickstep backward he aimed up his Hunter's Pistol at the still recovering Stewart; the youth could only stare back in widened eyes, unable to move in response to it.

BANG

A gunshot did go off.

But not the one he expected.

Eileen's own Hunter's Pistol caught the grunting Henryk off guard; her shot was true and sent him leaning back on his knees, open to counter-attack. Stewart's eyes stayed widened as he clocked her rush in, like the very crow her feathery coat seemed to suggest.

SQUELCH

With a noisy squashing sound the poor mauve-coloured hunter was sent spiralling across the air in a sea of blood and pain. Stewart followed his descent with a hungry narrow of his eyes; he was on his feet immediately and in pursuit. Pulling back the Hunter's Axe he so dutifully carried he extended it out, similarly to extend its frightening range; Henryk seemed to notice his intentions for the older warrior recovered in an athletic side-flip before skidding back in further recovery. Finally ready to push forward, the narrow-eyed hunter leapt at the silent Stewart, his own Saw Cleaver similarly extended out to attack with.

CLANG

The two clashed their weapons together once more but this time on an even strength field; Stewart's teeth grit together terribly as he stared back at the glowering eyes of his enemy, his own face leant to his side. In spite of the sparks their steel caused they merely continued their effort to push through their defence.

He was strong, Stewart thought to himself.

I'm not sure I can stop him by myself, he ruminated on, a bead of nervous sweat dripping down his forehead.

As if reading his inner thoughts however, the incredibly agile Eileen's Blade of Mercy shone brightly in the moonlight above them both, pulling their attention. Appearing as if a crow in the air herself, a bird of prey descending down to snack on her next feast, she managed to put enough fear into the grunting Henryk to forcibly end his stalemate by pulling back to a recovery position. As expected, Eileen plummeted down upon him oppressively, her Blade of Mercy clashing with his Saw Cleaver.

She audibly grunted in tune with her attacks as their steel collided together before soon breaking one another once more. Henryk growled as he swung his Saw Cleaver diagonally after the initial smash; unfortunately however she was too fast for him in her quick evasion. The mysterious hunter turned his blade on the approaching Stewart and, this time, he opted to leap forward for a jumping attack. Caught completely off guard once more, the youth's eyes widened and he came to a screeching halt, applying the brakes to his march and raising up his weapon to block the incoming attack.

SMASH

Stewart managed to block it but not by much; the youth found himself lacking in the appropriate strength to fight back properly. He grunted continually in effort, sweat dripping down his forehead as the older fighter finally pushed through.

“Agh!” The dreaming hunter gasped out; Henryk's initial attack managed to finally cut through the youth's defence and caught him across his hunter's garb. A painful wound was left strewn across his chest as he was sent spiralling through the air in a pained, shut-eyed grunt; as he rolled across the ground, Eileen pressed the attack while her opponent was still busy in his previous offence.

With her Blade of Mercy she was in his face in an instant and clashed her two curved swords against the man's extended Saw Cleaver; Henryk grunted once more as he was sent a few steps back from her surprising strength. In response however he brought up his Hunter's Pistol and seemed to grin lowly behind his mauve-coloured hat. Eileen's own eyes widened behind her mask and she quickstepped to her side to avoid the incoming loud gunshot, echoing throughout the Tomb of Oedon.

Newly re-recovered from his earlier wound, Stewart let out a built up yell as he suddenly descended down on the wide-eyed Henryk from the sky, his Hunter's Axe coated in Fire Paper. With the added fiery buff to his attack, the dream sustained hunter's own strength finally seemed to match and even overpower the gasping Henryk; the older warrior drew his breath in sharply as he held his Saw Cleaver up diagonally. All of his effort seemed to be stuck into stopping his newest opponent from causing any more distractions but by then it was seemingly too late; Stewart turned his grinning face to his right.

“Now!”

Acting on his words, the narrow-eyed Eileen re-appeared at the pair's side; the wide-eyed Henryk could only watch in growing horror as his swift opponent shot through the air to reach him.

SQUELCH

After a noisy and blood covered injury Eileen, Stewart and her hapless victim remained motionless; Stewart stared down at the silent and wide-eyed Henryk, Henryk himself merely opted to remain quiet, blood very visibly leaking from a frontal wound. Eileen, the fight's finisher, stood frozen in a bent-low position. She held her two separated curved swords at her two sides as she seemed to stare forward before, finally, relaxing her stance and pulling her weapons closer to her once again.

As she moved, the pain-stricken Henryk finally seemed to react; he gasped as he pulled backwards, forcing the gasping Stewart off of his Saw Cleaver. The mysterious warrior could only cough out painfully, blood dropping from his mouth as he similarly involuntarily discarded his weapon to the ground with a loud clang. Uttering no other final words, the poor man merely dropped back the way, his eyes scrunching shut in pain. As if reacting to his seeming defeat and even his death; his body seemed to disappear into a bright, white light.

–

4

His fiery Hunter's Axe lighting up the area, Stewart gasped in further effort as he pulled it back to a shorter range, the fight having been now concluded before re-raising his eyes up to face the slow-approaching form of his new ally and friend.

“That wasn't necessary of ya...,” she merely gasped out as she folded her arms. Though she looked at him as coolly and collected as she always seemed to, her tone of voice suggested her tiring and exertion from the fight. “But you have my thanks,” the older woman complimented with a similarly grateful nod of her head. Stewart couldn't help but smile back warmly, his mood lifting in spite of his defeat earlier. “We made it with our lives... you're not bad at all.” She complimented once more. Stewart could only chuckle, using his free left hand to rub the back of his head in a show of his light embarrassment.

“Thanks.” He chuckled out.

“It's a shame how this all turned out,” Eileen spoke out as she turned her head out toward the front entrance to the tomb, presumably in reference to the fallen Gascoigne and perhaps even their latest opponent. Stewart traced her stare with a sad frown of his own, his memory replaying the earlier events. “But this is a hunter's fate,” she spoke, her words calling his attention once more; he blinked as he re-turned to face her, his curiosity gained. “Whether we can still dream... or whether we can't.”

'Dream'?

How does she...?

Eileen turned around, presumably to leave, after speaking her reply. Her shoes clicked noisily against the cobble of the tomb and he made to walk on quickly after her, as if to catch her.

“Wait!” He called forward; she didn't seem to listen. The old woman merely continued her march back up the stairs, presumably to the Cathedral Ward. “W-What do you mean?!” The younger hunter exclaimed over desperately, his eyes narrowing half-suspiciously. “You said-”

“Just keep yer hands clean,” she threw over her shoulder, half-turning her head to face him. He stopped moving as she finally halted to open her mouth behind her mask. Stewart's eyes widened in a surprised stare as he watched her continue. “Remember; your job is to hunt beasts... not other hunters,” she re-explained very briefly before a seeming smirk went into her words to suit the chuckle that came with them. “Leave them to me.” She advised in a final low chuckle before finally re-turning her face forward and resuming her march.

Her cryptic and suggestive words left Stewart in a half-narrowed, half-shocked daze, unable to find the words with which to respond to her.

She knows something, he thought.

That much was obvious.

\--


	6. Whispers of a Killer

Chapter 6: Whispers of a Killer  
Healing Church Hunt Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.

Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"S.S. Anubis" - Jet Force Gemini OST. Scene 2 (First Half).

\--

In his investigation of the Cathedral Ward, Stewart meets back up with a new friend he made in Central Yharnam; an older woman by the name of Eileen. Seemingly an experienced warrior, she makes it clear to him that her job is to hunt other hunters that have gone mad with bloodlust. Stewart unknowingly assists her in her latest job to assassinate a man known only as Henryk hiding out in the Tomb of Oedon, Father Gascoigne's old resting place

Stewart can only ponder at the connection between Henryk and Gascoigne for him to go looking for his killer so bloody-minded.

They both succeed in stopping the hateful Henryk by joining forces in an attempt to quell his anger. With a final parting but cryptic farewell, Stewart is left merely in puzzlement by her words. While re-investigating the Cathedral Ward and Central Yharnam however he manages to make several new friends and even saves a few.

An old woman who would not give her name to the youth.

A suspicious man whom opted not to listen to his words and chose to look for his own sanctuary.

And a woman of the night, the only person to give her name to him; Arianna.

Thanks to his new friend, a strange little robed man by the name of Noah, Stewart now has a small hub besides the Hunter's Dream itself; a sanctuary away from the maddened beasts and men of Yharnam. His morale increased from his success in saving these three people, Stewart allows himself to ride his momentum in an attempt to do as much good in the short amount of time he has.

He resumes his hunt for the Healing Church.

\--

Scene 1

Even as he re-materialised into the Cathedral Ward via the lamp he so often used, Stewart attempted to bring as little attention to himself as possible. His eyes almost immediately caught the new forms hanging around the Oedon Chapel hub; sitting in a chair directly to his top left was the smiling Arianna. She greeted him with a deft and soft raise of her left hand. Stewart couldn't help but nod back in light greeting, tipping the hat he always dutifully wore.

"Ahh, kind hunter!"

Stewart blinked at the similarly soft interruption; he turned his inquisitive eyes to his right to find the smiling chapel dweller sitting hunched over in his usual position behind him. The youth nodded in a similarly smiling greeting before turning to walk closer to him.

"Thank you; so that lady, you told her about this place?" Noah asked him curiously with a light turn of his head. Stewart frowned down at him in short thought before quickly realising he was talking about Arianna; he nodded in affirmation, a small smile re-growing on his face. "W-Well, she actually talks to me!" He managed out in a surprised chuckle. Stewart smiled down at him before briefly turning his eyes to face the watching Arianna. "Well, only now and then... and she don't mince words..," Noah corrected himself in his smile, re-lowering his head as he spoke. "But she's a kind one; I can tell. A good woman!" He further complimented, his head shooting back up in his exuberant smile.

"Yeah," Stewart quietly agreed with him in his positive nod, his eyes still on her. He tore them away however when he re-faced the little man below him. "What about the others; did they make it?"

"Oh, yes!" The Chapel Dweller smiled back in his own affirming nod before turning his own face to their far off right. "They don't offer me much in the way of conversation, but still...," he spoke in his well-natured smile; Stewart traced his eyes to find the frowning old woman sitting in her own chair and the scowling suspicious man hiding in the top left corner of the room. "I'd rather see 'em both alive anyhow." Noah admitted in his smile.

"W-What about the other one?" Stewart stammered out, panic slowly gripping his nerves; he turned his head to face Noah below him, curious. "The little girl?"

"Sorry kind hunter; none of us saw a little girl," Noah responded in a sad frown of his own. "Are y'sure y'told 'er to come here?"

Oh no, Stewart thought to himself.

Paranoia and fear began to grip at his nerves once more.

"I... I see..." The dream sustained hunter murmured out, his eyes lowering. Noah seemed to notice the youth's sudden change in mood; realising his words' meaning he lit his face up once more.

"Oh I'm sure she's fine good hunter!" The little man smiled good naturedly; Stewart couldn't help but re-raise his eyes up to the little man's positivity, smiling wanly in response. "Please don't blame yerself."

"I won't." He lied down at him in a chuckle.

First Gascoigne and now his daughter.

Who else next?

Turning to leave, he issued the smiling Noah a small wave before walking on, presumably to leave the Cathedral Ward. His forced smile soon dropped from his face as he trudged on forward, completely forgetting to greet his new friend; she laid a soft finger across his left hand as he passed, as if to remind him. He gasped and turned his eye down to face her inviting smile.

"Hello dear," the blonde woman greeted in her warm tone. He put on the smile he wore not seconds previous and nodded in silent greeting before turning to walk toward her politely. "You weren't lying I see," she said, turning briefly to scan her eyes across the quiet chapel. "This is a safe place."

Stewart nodded in quiet affirmation, smiling in silent response.

"Thank you; I am in your debt!" She smiled, a seemingly sincere tone in her words. Stewart initially blinked at her, surprised before chuckling and shaking his head; waving the matter off. "I'd like to tender my thanks, but I haven't much to offer," she admitted, this time in a sad kind of frown before regaining her hopeful smile. "All I can give... is my blood."

Blood?

What does she mean, he thought.

Like the vials doctor Iosefka used to give me?

"But... would you even take a whore's blood...?" She murmured, her curious frown returned to her expression as she re-turned her eyes up to his. He blinked only once in recognition, surprised before turning his own eyes away from hers in red-faced embarrassment. A very small but seemingly long period of awkward silence began between the pair and Arianna soon began to read the situation with a smile. "I... suppose that, that's natural-"

"Sure," Stewart finally interrupted her with a smile of his own, wan and all. Surprised this time however, Arianna widened her eyes in a single blink before a slow smile began to re-grow on her face. She tilted her head at him, as if curious. "I'd love some."

"Oh, good," Arianna chuckled well-naturedly before using her free left hand to pull him forward with her left index finger. "Come close dear," she requested in her smile; he lowered his eyes from hers in a slight show of embarrassment; she seemed to notice and chuckled up at him before continuing. "Don't worry, I've done this before." She chortled at his naivety; he couldn't help but chuckle nervously back at her in response, his anxiousness showing.

At her request however he drew himself closer to her gradually and carefully; he couldn't stop the embarrassment from showing on his reddened cheeks as she smiled up at him. When they came within kissing distance she surprised him yet again; this time she smirked knowingly as she suddenly placed something inside his trench-coat pocket. Blinking down, surprised, he double-took in her direction, as if expecting something else entirely.

"I hope it helps dear," she laughed up at him; he couldn't help but laugh back in a mix of humour and nervousness, rubbing the back of his head in a display of his old habits. "It may not restore much of your health but it should give you some stamina." She said suggestively in her smile.

"Thanks so much," the youth nodded gratefully back at her before re-gaining his initial frown and continuing. "But I... wanted to ask you..."

"Yes?"

Ask her about the note you saw, he thought to himself.

"Do you know anything about...," he began lowly and thoughtfully; his eyes soon re-raised to face her in his frown. "Byrgenwerth?" The dreaming hunter finally asked as he narrowed his eyes down at her.

"Byrgenwerth?" She parroted on up at him, as if surprised. "Yes I... used to live in Byrgenwerth."

That surprised him.

His eyes widened and he gasped, blinking once at her. "R-Really?!"

"Well... yes," Arianna admitted up at him, raising a curious blonde eyebrow as she did so. "I was lucky enough to live in one of the most richest parts of Yharnam at one point."

"Did you... ever know of the...," he began, hesitantly unsure on whether to continue. She tilted her head at him, curious. He sighed once before finally gaining the courage to continue. "The 'Byrgenwerth Butcher'?" The youth questioned her, soft tone to his voice. Her eyes slowly widened in response to his words.

"How do you know that name...?" She merely whispered over at him, as if surprised. Similarly shocked, he turned his own eyes away from hers before rubbing the back of his head in a chuckle.

"It's... just a name I heard," he half-admitted, refusing to face her in his omittance. "W-What do you know about it?"

Arianna watched him curiously, as if unsure on whether to respond or not. Finally however, she did. "The Byrgenwerth Butcher is the reason I left," she explained very briefly. "He was killing a lot of us, especially those in my trade."

"R-Really?" Stewart blinked curiously. "This person... was a man?"

"Well we simply don't know," she sighed in response, joining her soft hands together in her dress' lap. "It's all just rumours really... he was never caught," Arianna continued on before briefly raising her eyebrows and sighing. "Or she was never caught, whatever." She chuckled lowly in her own humour; he couldn't help but smile at her.

What she told him seemed somehow to link up with what he read on that desk on his way up here.

Yet he knew there was more hiding somewhere else.

Why did that name enter his mind when he read that note?

A strange kind of dread entered his system and his frown winced as he thought of it.

"Why are you so interested in old ghosts anyway?"

Her question tore him out of his hard thoughts and he blinked in initial surprise before nervously laughing back at her.

"It's... part of my investigation," he half-honestly admitted in his nod. "I want to see if there's any connection to the Healing Church."

"I... see," Arianna murmured back at him, watching him carefully before regaining the smile on her face. "Well, do be careful out there won't you?" She asked hopefully. "It'd be nice to see you again."

~

Is that... someone hostile?

His paranoid thoughts ever echoed loudly within his head as he stepped lightly forward through the small graveyard. Further ahead kneeling in front of some strange monument was a white robed man, shaggy blonde hair adorned on his head.

He seemed human...

With that thought propelling him forward, Stewart opted to stop stalking and to let his presence be known. He took his hand off of his Hunter's Axe and walked noisily toward him, his shoes clicking against the cobbled streets of the Cathedral Ward. The blonde man finally seemed to notice; he turned his head half-way 'round at first before opting to stand up, turning his body around to face him completely.

His clothing seemed to suggest a connection to the Healing Church, just like a lot of the men stalking these streets.

"Ah... you're a beast hunter, aren't you?" The man spoke over, his baritone soft but firm and friendly. "I knew it! That's precisely how I started out," he spoke once more, this time in an amiable smile. Stewart couldn't help but smile back, nodding in silent affirmation. "Ah, beg pardon," the blonde man chuckled, raising an apologetic hand as he did so. "You may call me Alfred. Protégé of Master Logarius, hunter of Vilebloods." The newly introduced Alfred smiled warmly as he bowed forward; seemingly a sign of respect between fellow hunters. Stewart followed him thusly though not without some sense of awkwardness to his movements.

"S-Stewart," the youth chuckled good-naturedly in response as an introduction of his own. Alfred nodded ever politely in understanding. "You seem fairly lucid considering." He added a small joke in his words to further lighten the atmosphere; Alfred seemed to appreciate it in the humoured chuckle he gave him in response.

"Of course," he merely answered, placing his hands by his side dutifully as he did so. "We hunters must be of strong mind to survive hunts and we must learn to co-operate."

"I can't agree more." Stewart chuckled in response, nodding.

"Ah, so what say you then?" Alfred asked, a second smile gracing his warm and inviting expression. "Our prey may differ, but we are hunters, the both of us," he briefly reiterated in his smile. "Why not co-operate, and discuss the things we've learned?"

Alfred's words surprised him.

Stewart could only blink in an initial frown before a smile soon regrew on his own face; he couldn't help the joy in his mood.

If this man was for certain, he thought then that's yet another survivor and all the better; one that can truly help.

"Of course!" He enthusiastically laughed in response, nodding.

"Oh-hoh! Very good; very good indeed!" Alfred smirked, seemingly in his own brand of humour before going into his white robes. "Take this, to celebrate our acquaintance!" He smiled as he soon handed over three strange pieces of paper. Stewart raised an eyebrow down at them before raising them both in recognition.

Fire Paper!

"A-Are you sure?" The youth asked him in a light wince, the value of the items concerning him. "These aren't cheap." He laughed nervously onward.

"Please don't concern yourself; a lasting friendship is worth much more than material items." Alfred smiled on in a positive nod. Stewart's frown soon melted into a warm smile of his own.

"Yeah...," the dreaming hunter nodded in agreement as he took the Fire Paper gratefully from his extended hand. "Yeah, it is."

"Now, there must be oodles for us to share my new friend! Go on, just tell me what piques your interest!" Alfred invited ardently, a cordial tone as ever to his words.

"There is one thing I'm investigating in the Cathedral Ward actually." Stewart chuckled, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

"Oh yes?"

"Do you know anything about... the Healing Church?"

"Ah, of course!" Alfred smiled on, nodding before re-opening his mouth to continue. "As you may well know, the Healing Church is the fountainhead of blood healing," he began in his explaining smile before soon losing it in favour of an unsure frown. "Well, I'm a simple hunter, quite unfamiliar with the ins and outs of the institution. "But I have heard that the holy medium of blood healing is venerated in the main cathedral and that councillors of the old church reside in the high stratum of the Cathedral Ward," he continued on before regaining his smile and nodding on. "If you seek blood healing, and the church is willing, you should pay them a visit."

Just as I thought, Stewart pondered to himself in a brief narrow of his eyes.

So does this mean that this 'Paleblood' is there too?

I could ask him about that I suppose but...

No, he won't know; same as most people, he thought.

Ask about what you asked Arianna, he considered on.

"W-What about, um...," Stewart began in a light wince, his eyes lowering in presumable thought before soon re-raising to face his new companion. "Byrgenwerth?"

"Ah, Byrgenwerth!" Alfred smiled in recognition, nodding. "Byrgenwerth is an old place of learning and the tomb of the gods, carved out below Yharnam, should be familiar to every hunter," he explained very briefly in his smile; Stewart raised his eyebrows in light surprise as he listened. "Well, once, a group of young Byrgenwerth scholars discovered a holy medium deep within its tomb. This led to the founding of the Healing Church, and the establishment of blood healing. In this sense, everything sacred in Yharnam can be traced back to Byrgenwerth."

"That's... quite informative," Stewart managed out before chuckling in his light surprise. Alfred smiled in response. "Where is Byrgenwerth?"

"Today, the college itself lies deep within a tangled wood, abandoned and decrepit," Alfred answered the youth, smiling as he soldiered on in his explanation. "And furthermore, the Healing Church has declared Byrgenwerth forbidden ground. It's unclear how many of its scholars even remain alive," the white-robed man claimed as he frowned this time in his words. "But only they know the password that allows passage through the gate."

"I... I see," Stewart frowned out, lowering his eyes in thought once more. "W-What about...," he began again, unsure before soon re-raising his eyes. "The... 'Byrgenwerth Butcher'?"

Alfred's smile was gone almost in an instant.

"Ah...," the Executioner murmured out in his own frown, the atmosphere soon turning strangely sour. "Yes... I know of the Byrgenwerth Butcher."

"W-What do you-?"

"The Byrgenwerth Butcher was a parasite," Alfred hissed out lowly as he narrowed his eyes forward, almost as if he were talking to the Butcher itself. "We know not for certain on his motives but we know he targeted women of the night and even some of the Healing Church itself."

"So he was... a serial killer?" Stewart asked for confirmation, furrowing his brow forward as he listened. Alfred nodded in his hard-eyed glare.

"Oh yes," he answered before continuing. "Not even the church's vicar could flush him out."

The Healing Church's vicar?

Another name to search for, he thought.

"Strange that you should ask about such a suspicious figure," the Executioner brought up, raising a curious eyebrow as he did so. Stewart gasped, blinking as he re-faced his companion. "Why the sudden interest?"

He was beginning to look suspicious doing this.

"I'm sorry; I'm just looking for information around the Healing Church," he answered in a well-natured chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. Alfred raised his eyebrow up at him before soon softening his expression. "I didn't mean any offence."

"It is quite all right my friend," Alfred waved the matter off, his frown soon melting once more into his inviting and warm smile. He soon bowed however, just as before, seemingly a sign of ending their conversation. "It has been a true pleasure; may the good blood guide your way."

–-

2

Maybe I've gone too far down here, he thought to himself.

His ruminations grew as ever concerned deep within his mind as he stalked the low and darkened corridors of the area he had found within the Cathedral Ward. Having opened a grave-like structure via a lever not far from his current position, he headed further downward, purely curious on whatever lay hid down in this area.

Twisting his Hunter's Axe around his left and right hands, he kept it at the ready as he further descended down the set of stairs before him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. As he entered the next area the first thing that caught his eye was the lamp ahead of him. His eyes narrowed at it before he soon stalked toward it, his attention now caught by the large double doors far to his left.

Stewart watched them carefully, as if for signs of any nasty surprises. His eyes stayed on them even as he clicked his fingers next to the lamp to activate it quietly; soon, the youth turned and walked toward the door only to find a large weathered note laying on the door before him.

This town is long abandoned. Hunters not wanted here.

Stewart's brow furrowed up at the aged note, suspicious and all.

What could they be hiding here?

Secrets of the Healing Church perhaps?

With that thought driving him on, Stewart grunted as he set his Hunter's Axe to his belt and pushed the doors forward and apart. They creaked to life, slowly and deliberately before, finally, Stewart was given marvel to the new sights before him.

Just as the note implied the place was a true wreck.

Stewart could only visibly wince as he slowly advanced down the steps, watching the still burning stake to his right.

A person lay inside that.

The sight chilled him to the bone.

"You there!"

Stewart's attention was suddenly grabbed by the abrupt interruption; he snapped his eyes and his head to his frontal left, toward the source of the sound.

High up somewhere?

"Hunter!" The voice, a deep one called forward.

A man's maybe?

"Didn't you see the warning...?" His voice echoed down toward the curious youth. "Turn back, at once. Old Yharnam, burned and abandoned by men, is now home only to beasts...," the nameless man's voice continued on. Stewart's eyes narrowed as he leant his body to the side, his progress temporarily halted as he was asked. "They are of no harm to those above..."

He must be joking, Stewart thought to himself.

Surely?

"Now, turn back!" The nameless man continued on. "Or the hunter... will face the hunt..."

His words melted into the simmering air, leaving Stewart with a final choice.

He had to be hiding something, he thought to himself.

His curiosity was truly piqued now.

Opting to ignore his warnings, Stewart pressed on; as he approached the small bridge ahead of him, he hid at the side of the bridge itself, feeling a presence. Sure enough as he expected, a single small human-shaped like beast stalked across the bridge, sniffing through the air. Stewart's eyes narrowed at it suspiciously, watching silently and thoughtfully.

Was the man right?

Was this beast of no harm to him?

He didn't feel like testing that hypothesis.

With quiet footsteps he made sure not to be noticed by the small beast, clicking across the cobbled streets of the simmering streets of Old Yharnam. As he walked slowly through the streets, covered by his darkened hunter garb his thoughts couldn't help but go back to one of notes he once saw in Central Yharnam, during his investigation of the Gascoigne clan.

When the hunt began, the Healing Church left us, blocking the great bridge to the Cathedral Ward, as Old Yharnam burned to the ground that moonlit night.

He remembered seeing the great bridge completely covered, as if in haste somehow.

There was definitely something hiding here.

And no man was going to frighten him with threats.

As if reading his very thoughts however, the nameless man he pondered on soon spoke once more.

"You are a skilled hunter...," he began, his voice echoing loudly as before; Stewart halted his progress almost immediately, his eyes snapping around the area in search for him. "Adept... merciless... half-cut with blood...," the man continued on lowly, his voice suggestive and philosophical. "As the best hunters are."

One of Stewart's eyes narrowed as they darted around in silent search for the man via his echoing voice.

"Which is why I must stop you!" The man merely finished with, a small continuation in comparison to the gravity of his words.

What was he-?

His eyes soon caught the sight of a large number of huge looking projectiles hurling towards him.

His eyes widened and Stewart rushed forward, rolling across the ground to reach one of the many statues littered around the area. He pressed his body up against the broken marble white and grunted through his grit-teeth as he felt it rumble and vibrate painfully from the bullets noisily smashing against it behind him.

As if to answer his greatest fears, another presence let itself be known whilst he lay hidden; a small group of two similarly faced beasts approached his wide-eyed position from both sides.

Oh no.

Ducking his head and moving very suddenly, Stewart turned himself to his lower left, barely avoiding the beast's clawed roaring strike. His eyes moved as quickly as his swift and skinny body did; spying the staircase to his far right he immediately gave chase toward it with all his might. Narrowly avoiding the man's onslaught of bullets and the roaring beasts chasing him he managed to skid himself down the descending pathway into a small alcove.

Even as he slide tackled his way into the room however he gasped in the sudden effort, his energy temporarily gone. He stared up at the ceiling, listening for the approaching beasts behind him but it would seem they either shook from his tail or were killed by his pursuer's bullets. His eyes briefly shut to match the single bead of sweat dropping from his brow, a small smile on his face.

Still alive.

Pulling himself up from the ground he stepped forward and stalked toward the exit of the alcove ahead of him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he watched the multiple trees dead ahead just across from the visible smoke blocking his further vision. He watched the simmering smoke suspiciously.

Something was hiding inside there.

The trees would make for good cover at least though, he thought.

Problem then is I'd have to deal with whatever's lying in wait there.

Decisions, decisions.

His eyes snapped to his right to find two small inclinations; a small bridge, seemingly to the end of the area and a small staircase to another smoky inclination.

Take the bridge he thought.

Narrowing his eyes forward he bent his body low before soon readying his courage.

"Three... two...," he began silently in his mind, as if readying himself for a marathon. "One!" He called out loudly, suddenly breaking into a low sprint. As if reacting to his mere voice he felt the ground rumble from the bullets that stalked the cobbled streets he raced across. The sounds of the shouting small beasts behind him being mowed down by said bullets however drove his morale on; as he rushed down the small bridge's staircase he curved himself across the cobbled ground before soon stopping in a sudden skid. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the ladder on his left; he instinctively snapped his eyes behind him, only to find no bullets chasing him. He double-took toward the ladder now ahead of him.

Could it be?

With the thought of the end of his pursued troubles driving him on, Stewart reached forward and grabbed the ladder's grips.

~

When he finally ascended to the top he was greeted by the half-expected appearance of the man that had once rained bullets down on him as mercilessly as he had accused him of. Stewart leant his body to the side, his unarmed fists clenched at his sides as he stared back at the turning man ahead of him. Now that he got a full look at him he drank in the man's appearance.

His darkened garb seemed to suggest a connection to hunters, even if not a direct one itself. The stitching on the set looked old and weathered and seemed to be of foreign origin than Yharnam. The cap he wore on his short-black haired head seemed to almost look like a grey wolf.

"Impressive," the man finally spoke, breaking the tension with a veritable knife. He carried a huge stake-like rifle in his right hand and a similarly large gun-like weapon in his left. "I didn't see you kill a single beast," he admitted as he shook his head over at him, narrowing his eyes as if in disbelief. "How did you do that...?"

"I didn't," Stewart modestly admitted in response, his body still leant. "I just avoid fighting wherever possible."

Silence.

The nameless man before him couldn't help but begin a small chuckle that soon erupted into raucous laughter, echoing loudly throughout Old Yharnam. Stewart could only raise a curious eyebrow up at the older man, unsure on his motivations. As if to read his thoughts however, the man finally stopped and smiled lowly in response before stepping off of the gatling gun he once commandeered, slowly approaching.

Was he friendly now?

"You are a strange one lad," the nameless old man chuckled once more in his low grin. Stewart blinked before finally walking slowly forward to join him. "Especially for a hunter... what is your name?"

"U-Um... Stewart."

"Stewart...," he murmured in a low smile, nodding in understanding. "I am Djura; it is an unexpected pleasure," the man smiled on as he belted his weapons and extended his left hand forward. Stewart blinked down at it before soon settling his nerves, nodding and taking his hand to shake it lightly. "What brings you to Old Yharnam?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the youth suspiciously.

"Just... information," Stewart chuckled good-naturedly, shaking his head as he pulled his hand back. "I've been curious about matters regarding the Healing Church."

"Ah, I see...," the newly introduced Djura frowned out as he pulled his eyes back from the youth temporarily before soon scanning them across the area beside and below them. "Well, you won't find much else here," he added before soon turning back to face the youth. "Everything here is already burnt."

"I can see that," Stewart chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sorry if I've intruded."

"Think nothing of it," Djura frowned back out as he shook his head of the matter, folding his arms back at him. "You may go on if you wish but please leave what remains behind you, hm?"

"I will," Stewart smiled gratefully, nodding in response. "Thanks so much."

"Hrm...," Djura murmured out in his thoughtful frown. His brow furrowed at the curious-faced Stewart before he soon continued. "You are a strange one for a hunter, young lad."

"Y-You really think so?"

"Yes...," the experienced warrior muttered out as he scanned his eyes up and down the youth. "Would you happen... to be dreaming this...?"

His sudden question shocked and surprised him.

Just like Eileen, he thought.

Does he know something?

"D-Dreaming?" Stewart parroted out, blinking, his smile soon lost to him. "U-Um I mean... yes!"

"Hmph... I see...," Djura frowned out before turning on his heel and stalking forward, back toward the gatling gun he once commanded. He watched the streets below with a hard-eyed gaze and Stewart's own eyes narrowed as he followed the older man. "They already roped another one in?"

"W-What do you mean 'another' one?" Stewart asked as he approached the former hunter's right side, his brow furrowed. Djura's eyes slowly scanned to his right, as if to face the youth suspiciously.

"You are not the first of the dreaming hunters lad," he spoke out; Stewart's eyes widened in surprise, his silent ruminations and suspicions confirmed. "There have been others." He continued on, his eyes soon returning to the ground below them.

"S-Such as?"

"Me," Djura finally confirmed as he 'rounded his narrow-eyed glare on the youth. The two shared a surprising awkward silence with one another; Stewart opted to stay silent as he listened, waiting for more information. "I no longer dream... but I also was once a hunter under the great Gehrman."

He knows about Gehrman?

What else does he know?

"This was years ago; I can barely remember much else about it all," he admitted on however as he shook his head, as if to dash the youth's silent hopes. "I only remember a few other things... and my task."

"Your... task?"

"Yes," Djura responded in a small nod. "Our unit was ordered by the vicar to burn down Old Yharnam," he explained very briefly, his arms still folded in his glaring frown. "We... just could not stop the onslaught," he admitted honestly in a shut-eyed shake of his head. "Finally we just burnt the place to the ground."

That would add up with what he read in Central Yharnam, he thought.

But then what?

"And the thanks we got...," Djura snorted out as his frown soon morphed into an angry scowl. He spoke on, as if reading the youth's silent thoughts. "The Healing Church declared our Powder Kegs heretics and blamed us for the incident," he claimed. "Laurence... you scheming bastard."

Stewart's eyes narrowed as he listened to the name-drop.

Laurence?

"I don't envy you your choice lad," Djura admitted, tearing him out of his thoughts; Stewart blinked to re-face the wiser man. "You'll really only have one." He stated in a sad sounding tone of voice.

"W-What do you mean?"

"One day... you will see," he claimed on in his tired-eyed frown before soon unfolding his arms and going into his garb's pockets. "Here... a farewell gift for the dream's new hunter..."

In Stewart's extended hand he passed him a small badge; he frowned down at its simplicity.

"It once belonged to our unit; the Powder Kegs," Djura claimed as he also frowned down at the old relic before soon shaking his head. "I have no more use for it anyway..."

Stewart's eyes narrowed down at the badge before his fingers closed around it and he re-raised his eyes to nod up at the older man.

"Thank you," he gratefully spoke in response. "For everything." Stewart smiled this time, similarly indebted. Djura merely shook the youth's words off with a similar sway of his head, eliciting him to turn and leave toward the ladder.

"You have the whole night to dream lad!"

Djura's sudden interruption and raise of voice made Stewart near gasp as he turned his head around to find the older man's position unchanged. Stewart stood next to the ladder, frozen in his transfixed stare as he watched the wiser ex-hunter's right back-fist raise up in a friendly gesture, as if to wave goodbye.

"See and make the best of it... hm?"

Stewart couldn't help but smile in his positive nod.


	7. Sanguine

Chapter 7: Sanguine  
Healing Church Hunt Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.

Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Hunter of the Dark" - Kingdom Hearts: Birth By Sleep Final Mix OST. Scene 1 (Second Half).  
"Hail the Nightmare" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 3 (First and Second Halves).

\--

Old Yharnam; a place bereft of the living and perhaps even hope. In his investigation of the abandoned wasteland of fire and beasts, Stewart manages to find himself face to face with one of the most interesting people has met in the city yet.

A man whom gives claim to the name 'Djura'.

Said to be a legendary hunter of incredible skill, Djura once belonged to his own unit; a subordinate force aligned to Gehrman's Workshop and the Healing Church. He explains that during his time he and his unit, the Powder Kegs, were commanded by their vicar to lay Old Yharnam alight. Previously linking up with what he had read about in Central Yharnam, Stewart soon realises just how important Djura once was.

His new friend and companion was once a man in the same position he is now.

Having said some suspicious things regarding dreams, just as Eileen once had, Stewart can only speculate as to the real implications of his connections...

\--

Scene 1

"Remain weary of the frailty of men..."

Stewart's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed forward at the sound of the voice ahead of him.

"Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented..."

Who is that?

As he approached via the staircase he found the huge inside a grand cathedral indeed.

"Seek... the old blood."

He soon found the echoing voice a light one; a woman's?

She was hunched over in a praying-like position, seemingly gripping something with both her hands.

"Let us pray, let us wish... to partake in communion."

Stewart narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her; hand slowly resting on the belted Hunter Axe's at his side.

The atmosphere felt oppressive.

"Our thirst for satiates us, soothes our fears... seek the old blood."

The 'old blood'?

He remembered that being mentioned somewhere before... but where?

"But beware the frailty of men... their wills are weak, their minds young."

As if finally sensing his presence however, the young woman began to gradually raise her head upward. Stewart halted his progress almost immediately, eyes narrowing forward.

What he saw next, he could not describe.

Not conventionally anyway.

The woman's body seemed to twist and turn into a strange shape; she grunted, seemingly angrily, in turn with her body's metamorphoses.

"What the hell...?" Stewart murmured out, his eyes widening and yet narrowing in half-horror, half-shock.

Seemingly finally completely transformed, the huge beast-like form of the once human woman turned slowly and almost deliberately around to face him.

A dog-like face stared back at him.

A huge chill ran up Stewart's wide-eyed spine.

The only thing human remaining about her now was the long white hair she once wore so well on her head. Along with the rest of her body it seemed to grow to an insane length, as if to make up for the rest of her growing.

The beast before him pulled back its head and faced the ceiling before finally let loosing an air-rending beast-like call.

Stewart's hands were on his Hunter's Axe and his Hunter's Pistol almost immediately.

This would not be easy, he thought.

~

The nameless beast began with a roaring fist-clenched swing of its left arm; Stewart locked onto the once human woman and quickstepped valiantly to its right side, eyes watching it carefully. He executed a quick forward slash with his Hunter's Axe across the beast's body on its side; it growled angrily before attempting to swat him away with its free and open right clawed hand.

Stewart grunted as he back-flipped athletically to avoid the attack however, landing on a narrow-eyed one knee.

His eyes soon caught the form of her still clenched left hand, pondering silently to himself.

Is she hiding something in there?

Whatever it was, it was a weakness.

Just as Gehrman-sensei would say, he thought to himself.

"Target it."

With that thought searing through his mind, the youth soon quickstepped at the drop of a hat when he found the beast leaping forward to rake her left open claws across the ground where he once stood. Extending his Hunter's Axe he shot across the ground like a bullet fired from his pistol, slashing at her clenched left arm as he did so. The ground spit up sparks to match his workshop-focused weapon and, as his eyes darted up in his spin to view the outcome of his attack, he found her screaming in seeming pained anguish above him.

He couldn't help the satisfied grin that appeared on his face as a result of his dead-on strike.

As if sensing his smirk however, the woman roared back down at him before attempting to rake her open clawed fist at him. As before, Stewart avoided it; quick as the ebony of night itself. This time however, he opted to leap on top of the beast's fist and she seemingly gasped in a grunt as she watched him. A mix of urgency and confidence filled Stewart's nervous system as he leapt up from her arm, pulling his Hunter's Axe back.

She stared up at him, almost as if a deer caught in the lights of a pistol.

SQUELCH

Stewart's transformed Hunter's Axe smashed noisily and painfully across the nameless beast's eyes and face, spraying blood anywhere and everywhere. The young hunter squinted his eyes shut, kept aloft in the air primarily through his own attack; as the blood from his aerial assault sprayed across his long fedora hat, he grunted loudly as he yanked the steel from her eyes. She gave vent to a pained and seeming angry roar as the young man dropped quietly and harmlessly to the ground; a small click of his shoes the only inclination.

As he had half-expected however the beast dropped to her knees, her shut-eyed face directly facing his; his eyes widened.

She was open for further assault.

Needing no further enticement, Stewart narrowed his once widened eyes and sent his right open fist through her already injured eyes. She gasped in pain as he similarly grunted from the effort he exuded before soon pushing her forward in an effort-filled roar of his own.

The visceral attack he gave her was devastating indeed.

As she was sent a few yards back she gave him a final angry scream, almost as if to say something to him.

"Stay away."

His eyes narrowed at her thoughtfully, opting to stand still and watch what she did.

Sure enough, she raised her still clenched clawed fist up with her open one and almost seemingly prayed.

His eyes widened when he watched a dim light engulf her body.

Was she healing?

On his feet in an instant, Stewart shot across the floor and slashed at her feet with his extended axe; she yowled in pain and the dim light that covered her body seemed to dissipate.

Good, he thought.

What was that technique?

She offered him no further time to ruminate however; the beast roared in a mix of frustration and even seemingly hatred before she opted to use both her arms this time. She swept the ground around him with both her clenched fist and her open one; though he managed to quickstep back to avoid the first couple of slashes he was caught in the second entourage of attacks she gave him. Her claws finally found their target and Stewart's eyes widened as a blinding pain inevitably took hold of him.

He was soon sent flying and rolling across the cathedral floor painfully, his own blood soon sailing after him. As he finally landed, Stewart let loose a blood-filled cough, staining the ground he lay on; he turned his wavy envisioned eyes up to the source of the screaming and found his enemy pursuing him, as if emboldened by her earlier attack. Fast as he could, he reached into the recesses of his hunter's garb and pulled out the vial Arianna had given him so graciously earlier. Stabbing it directly into his right leg, he almost immediately found his vision returning to picture perfect sight.

The euphoria he felt exceeded far that of any other blood vial he had taken.

What was this sensation?

It was almost as if he were...

… with Arianna herself...

He let his irrelevant thoughts dissipate away and allowed his combat high to take hold of him; on his feet he scurried away from the descending beast's right open clawed fist.

SMASH

The ground spit up rocks and boulders from the very ferocity she commanded, however, where her strength prevailed her vision seemingly failed; when she found merely her enemy's blood laying where he once did she blinked, darting her eyes and her ears around in search for him.

SQUELCH

The once human woman gasped, her eyes widening beneath her many bandages that she wore, frozen in her stance. She stared directly at the beast-like skull before her laying on the altar before her, seemingly unable to move. Behind her the narrow-eyed and scowling Stewart smashed his Hunter's Axe's blade directly into her spine; seemingly a critical hit of all things.

His endurance and his energy boosted to the sky, he found himself easily moving; as if a shadow in the darkness itself. Further emboldened by his sudden increase in strength and speed, Stewart dragged his extended Hunter's Axe across the beast's spine, drawing bone and blood noisily and painfully from the injury he caused. The beast almost immediately let loose a pained screaming roar, attempting to swat him off as if he were an insect on her back. The youth's eyes stayed narrowed as he ran up her back, his weapon drawing out her flesh, bone and blood before, finally, he came to her head.

With a final effort-filled scream of his own, Stewart pulled his Hunter's Axe from the back of her skull, scowling forward as he pulled his weapon to his far left in his similarly left hand. As he dropped to the ground in a gracious flip forward, he listened to the wide-eyed beast behind him gave vent to one final howl, seemingly of pain. As he had landed, Stewart spun around on his heel, gripping his extended Hunter's Axe in his left arm held downward.

His right hand clenched at his side similarly as her echoing roar left along with the rest of her disappeared body. Blood rained down on his hard-eyed frown and his night-black clothes became covered in the echoing finality of her drizzling blood. Two familiar words echoed throughout his mind as he stood in his victory pose, his eyes narrowed.

"Prey Slaughtered."

–-

2

"Master Willem, I've come to bid you farewell."

The vision before him soon began to finally stabilise; ahead of him he spied the sight of a robed arm resting on a chair.

"Oh, I know, I know. You think now to betray me."

The man's robed words were seemingly spoken with a strange sense of spite; the long rod he carried in his rocking chair seemed to pop upwards and downwards in tandem.

"No... but you will never listen. I tell you, I will not forget our adage."

Stewart soon found himself watching the side of the rocking man's withered old face; he opened his mouth to respond to the younger voice.

"... We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood. Our eyes are yet to open..."

As if triggered by his words, the younger man's voice soon spoke up alongside him.

"Fear the old blood."

The pair were given a small vestige of silence together, as if to suggest their once closeness together. Soon however, the younger voice spoke up.

"I must take my leave."

With that final announcement, the younger male turned, his footsteps echoing quietly in the hall they once sat in. A door whined as it was pulled open and shut noisily behind itself, indicating his presence gone from the room.

Stewart soon found himself watching the older man resting in his chair from the ceiling; books lay littered about around him lazily and feverishly.

"By the gods... fear it, Laurence..."

Stewart gasped as he pulled his free left arm back from the beast-like skull that lay on the altar ahead of him. He near fell to his rear from the sheer fierceness of the vision he had just watched.

Was that real?

And there was that name again.

'Laurence'.

Who was he?

And who was the man in the chair?

'Master Willem'?

Soon, as before, his head began to ache painfully.

Another migraine?

But why?

Arianna's earlier blood vial did nothing to ease the pain from this particular headache; he could only weather the storm, both hands gripping the sides of his head as he wandered slowly back to the lit lamp behind him.

Those names, he thought.

So familiar.

Just like when he met Gehrman.

But why?

I'm an outsider, he thought; I shouldn't know who these men are.

And yet every time he heard their name spoken, a small part of his brain lit up alongside these periodical headaches, as if to recognise them.

As the pain lingered on to a dull ache, he soon put on a sad smile to his expression and even chuckled in a light snort.

Maybe he was the Byrgenwerth Butcher that Arianna and Alfred had told him about.

He couldn't help but snort at the possibility.

I can barely handle killing beasts let alone people, he thought in a half-amused chuckle.

Oh well, he thought...

Time to head back.

~

Stewart's consciousness flitted in and out; he could only groan, an immeasurable pain filled throughout his body.

"Where am I...?"

His silent thoughts were not answered however; even when he opened his eyes he could only see the deep fabric of something he was clearly stuffed into. He tried moving his battered and cut up body but could not find the strength.

Even when he did however, he found he was held together.

Was he in a bag?

What in the name of all that was holy happened?

When he re-shut his eyes, his fatigue soon catching back up with him, he fell unconscious.

–-

3

"Maledictus..."

Stewart gasped, his eyes snapping wide-open; they darted around as he pulled the top half of his body upward. His eyes soon adjusted to the darkness of the cold ground he sat on and, sure enough, it came into frame.

A cell?

"What the...?" He grunted in a pained gasp as he pulled himself up to his two feet, his left eye shut in effort.

"Inficimur..."

His ears perked up to the long, loud and echoing voices singing through the seeming hallways.

What the hell was that?

"Ave, sanguine!"

A chill ran up his spine as he listened to the far-off crowd singing, seemingly a hymn of some kind.

He didn't know what they were singing about but it made eerie chills run through his body.

Something was wrong in the way it sounded.

Almost as if they were...

"Sanguine!"

Stewart instinctively flinched at the sudden increase in the voice's volume, echoing throughout the cells.

"SANGUINE!"

What are they doing?

Could they be... summoning something...?

If only I knew what they were saying, Stewart thought to himself as he narrowed his eyes around the ceiling of the cell he stood in. Walking forward and allowing the echoing hymns to leave his notice, he dared to test the door's effectiveness. Sure enough, it creaked open and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Why was he brought here?

Try to remember, he thought to himself... what happened?

I managed to kill that beast in the grand cathedral, he thought.

… but then what...?

His eyes widened when a flash of the hooded and cloaked figure wearing a bag over its shoulder suddenly shot through his mind.

There was one of those things in the Cathedral Ward just opposite the chapel... where he was returning to.

It must have killed me somehow, he thought.

But, the question remains...

… why did it bring me here?

~

"Oh, merciful gods, help me... in the name of the Healing Church, cleanse us of this horrible dream..."

A voice?

Stewart's eyebrows and ears perked up as he walked down the staircase, listening. It sounded like a woman's; she almost seemed to chuckle in spite of her words' grievous implications. He narrowed his eyes as he followed her quiet laughs, turning to descend down the next staircase on his left; he watched the area on his right, certain the voice came from there.

Sure enough as he turned once more to approach, he found a small ebony coloured form laying down in a praying formation.

It was definitely a woman.

She wore Healing Church colours.

He smiled as he approached, the prospect of assisting and saving another survivor driving him on however when her voice hit an octave as she noticed him coming he stopped, his smile dropping.

"Ohh!" She exclaimed suddenly, barely watching him through the corner of her eye. "Please, leave me be... don't take m-" the nameless young woman murmured out as she shook terribly in her low position. Her words were soon interrupted by herself however when she, by chance, turned up to look at the frowning Stewart. Her eyes widened, as if in sudden recognition and he couldn't help but blink back at her quizzically. "Ahh! By your garb!" She greeted suddenly, opting this time to turn her head and her eyes to face him. "The Healing Church...!" She gasped out, almost as if relieved more by his clothes than by his presence. He couldn't help but smile in a quiet chuckle to himself, rubbing the back of his head.

Should I let her think I'm one of them?

Well... she seems to be in a better mood now, he thought.

"You've come to save me...!" She breathed up at him, her gloved hands grasped tightly together as if in praying. "Ahh, thank you dear saint!" She smiled up at him this time; his faithful smile was soon lost to him in place of a guilty frown. He couldn't help but turn his eyes away from hers. "I... I have no words to express my relief... oh, except...," she murmured as she lowered her own eyes to go into her garb for something. Stewart turned down to her, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "You could take this, at least..."

As she spoke her words, she smiled well-naturedly as she handed him a strange skull.

He narrowed his eyes down at it as he recognised it; a Madman's Knowledge.

Seemed to be a thing with the Healing Church.

"It's sure to please an upstanding member of the church like you." She smiled on up at him, her words filled with a sweet sense of honey; he could only watch her carefully and suspiciously.

Surely she was trying to manipulate him somehow?

Or maybe she's just scared, he added on in his silent ruminations.

Not everyone wants to fix you of your coin, he thought.

"O-Oh I'm very sorry...," she chuckled, still shaking in her low position. "I've talked for so long and I still haven't introduced myself," the young nun smiled on before she re-asserted her tone of voice. "I am Sister Adella of the Healing Church."

"U-Um... S-Stewart," he nodded back as he extended down his right hand forward to be taken, a nervous smile on his own expression. The newly introduced Adella did just that, a new light frown adorned on her expression as she allowed him to help her upwards; the two shared an uncomfortable staring silence as they did so and Stewart couldn't help but break the tension and the stare by chuckling and turning his eyes away from her piercing ones. "Y-You have nothing to apologise for," he smiled on as he watched the ground next to them both before, finally, re-raising and carefully watching her himself. "This place is...," he began again as he turned his eyes upward, listening to the far-off choir sing their malicious-sounding hymn. "Strange." He added, narrowing his eyes as he spoke.

"Y-Yes I was... seized," Adella replied as she pressed forward, frowning back at him; he couldn't help but gasp and take a step back, surprised by her sudden closeness. She grasped at his free left arm, a horrified look in her eyes. "A hulking brute in the Cathedral Ward." She explained very briefly and his eyes narrowed down at her in thought and recognition.

"Y-You too?" The young hunter murmured out, blinking back down at her.

"Yes!" She exclaimed suddenly and her grip soon became tighter. His face grimaced very lightly in response to the surprising strength she commanded. "There w-were many others... but they've been taken away..." Adella explained very briefly, watching him suggestively and worriedly.

He knew almost exactly what she was implying; it threw another chill up his spine to match the malevolent chanting that echoed down in the cells.

"A-And I've h-heard moans... echoing in the distance... ever since..." She breathed up at him. He winced when he felt her harsh grip shaking.

She really was scared.

He couldn't blame her.

He was also terrified.

"S-So... you're a hunter of the church?" She pressed him further as she watched his eyes, still gripping at his left arm tightly. He blinked down at her before finally deciding to omit truths; he soon nodded down at her in his light smile. "Which would mean... that the hunt is on tonight...," Adella soon murmured, punctuating her words with a worried frown as she lowered her eyes in presumable thought. "And every door will be shut tight..."

His eyebrows raised when he realised what she was saying.

Was she looking for shelter?

The Oedon Chapel!

"P-Perhaps it isn't my place to ask...," she began lowly as she slowly surfaced her eyes up to face his. "Do you know of somewhere that might... take me in?" The young nun asked him, her voice hushed down to a quiet question. Her grip on his left arm softened but squeezed him appropriately, as if in desperation.

He didn't blame her.

"Y-Yes I do, actually," Stewart nodded in a well-natured smile. Her eyes widened, as if shocked by the revelation. "You know the Cathedral Ward?"

"Y-Yes, I do!"

"The Oedon Chapel there will take you in; I guarantee it." Stewart smiled, briefly shutting his eyes. When he felt her shaking form slowly dissipate he couldn't help the joy overtake his own system.

It was during these sorts of times he felt his best.

"T-Thank you so much!" She breathed up at him gratefully, smiling and all. She suddenly pulled forward and embraced him into her small gloved arms; he gasped this time in surprise, eyes widening. "I th-thought I was well and truly finished here tonight..." Adella murmured out as she shook in her embrace. His sad frown returned to his expression as he leaned forward and placed his own arms across her back softly, opting to listen. "I owe you my life."

"N-No it's... fine." Stewart laughed nervously as he patted her on the back, attempting to lighten the atmosphere of the situation.

The choir still singing their malevolent hymn in the background did little to aid this.

"I'm just glad I'm helping, that's all." He smiled as he placed his hands on her shoulders softly before soon patting them re-assuredly and pulling them back. When she pulled back from him she grasped her gloved fingers together, as if in a praying motion.

"Thank you, kind hunter," she smiled up at him gratefully. "I will set out as soon as I can."

"Are you sure you want to be travelling alone?" He asked her, his frown soon returning to his face.

"I- Well I don't see any other ch-"

Her words were soon interrupted when the newly smiling youth brought out of an aged yellow parchment in his left hand. She blinked down at it.

"What is...?" Adella inquired, raising a curious black eyebrow down at it.

"Bold Hunter Marks!" Stewart shot back enthusiastically, smiling brightly as he ever did. He silently thanked the ever quiet Eileen that gifted him these. "They return you to any lamp location within an area that you've visited."

"L-Lamp...?" She questioned him unsure, blinking.

"The last place we've both been is the Cathedral Ward, right?" He asked her this time in a light raise of his eyebrow; she nodded in her unsure frown. "So take it!" The youth insisted, his smile brightening as he pushed forward his left hand. She blinked down at it before slowly gripping the parchment with her gloved right fingers. Adella raised it up to her eyes and blinked on further at it, as if surprised at such a sight. "I got tons; it's cool!" He insisted as he brought up his arms to rest behind his head, smiling brightly. Adella frowned back at him for a second before, finally, a grateful smile re-appeared across her face and she nodded in response.

"Thank you... kind hunter," she breathed up at him, smiling this time as she reached forward and grasped her gloved hands together. He blinked initially down at her in his carefree expression, his own arms resting cheerfully behind his head. "I hope... that I shall see you there?"

–-

4

Strange woman, he couldn't help but think to himself as he shook the Hunter's Axe he carried at his side of the blood that had gathered. Another many of the hostile forces he had dealt with fell at his side; one of the kidnappers donned in a dark cloak.

Had to be careful, he thought.

Those things contained some real power.

When he exited out forward into the streets of Yahar'gul, Stewart's eyes narrowed and his ears perked up catching the sound of the far-off crowd's chanting and singing.

When he had first heard this, the chills up his spine told him something.

Gehrman was wrong.

There was something else at work here than just beasts and blood.

But what...?

As if to catch his attention on his ruminations, a shining note laying on the ground made him double-take in its direction.

Behold! A Paleblood Sky!

His eyes narrowed down at it thoughtfully; there's that word again, he thought.

'Paleblood'.

Instinctively he turned his eyes up to the sky as if to do as the note requested of him.

The sky's background was the same as always.

His brow furrowed in half-confusion, half-thoughtful.

His mind went back to the other notes he found down in the underground cells.

Nightmarish rituals crave a newborn. Find one, and silence its harrowing cry.

Madmen toil surreptitiously in rituals to beckon the moon. Uncover their secrets.

What does this mean?

His amnesic mind raced with thoughts of possibilities and implications but, as always, he could not fully connect these notes he had all found together.

Something was wrong with this place, he thought.

"If you're all doing what I think you're doing...," he murmured out as he narrowed his eyes forward at the evening orange sky above. "Then I'm gonna stop it."


	8. Redirection; To Find Lost History

Chapter 8: Redirection; to Find Lost History  
Answers in the Dark Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Laura Plays The Piano" - Silent Hill II OST. Scene 1 (First & Second Halves)  
"Dark Forest" - Midnight Syndicate. Scene 3 (First Half).  
"Alive Inside" - The Walking Dead OST. Scene 4.

-

In Stewart's investigation of the Healing Church he has uncovered very little in spite of his major progress through Yharnam's Cathedral Ward. While in the grand cathedral he comes face to face with the last remaining sane person alive within its ranks; a vicar by the name of Amelia. Before he can even exchange any words with her however she turns on him as if a beast on the field; Stewart wastes no time in defending himself and cuts her down.

For his efforts he finally receives the answer that his new companion Alfred had been previously theorising and discussing him with; the password in the gates deep within the ward that leads to Byrgenwerth.

Once said to be the origin of the great Healing Church, Stewart's thoughts race as he makes the final approach to making his first step into forbidden territory; why does he know of the long deceased 'Byrgenwerth Butcher'? And why as Yharnam descends into madness and misery do the Healing Church appear to thrive?

Things in this world, Stewart is learning, are rarely what they seem...

In spite of his urgent thoughts however his next meeting with his ever reliable mentor manages to open his goal, even if very temporarily.

Stewart fixes his eyes on the Cathedral Ward's Oedon Chapel...

-

Scene 1

"The Healing Church, and the Blood Ministers who belong to it... were once guardians of the hunters, in the times of the hunter... Ludwig. They worked, and forged weapons, in their unique workshop. Today, most ministers don't recall the hunters. And so, heed the message of your forebears...

… Ascend to Oedon Chapel."

Gehrman's strange advice rung deep within his ears and his mind as he turned to the suspiciously now open double doors within the chapel itself. As if triggered by his visit to Old Yharnam the doors seemed to be open now.

But why?

As always, he could not answer the question; he opted to step through the elevator and dealt with many of the insane Yharnamites taking residence. As he made the final approach to the summit, he opened up a chest and discovered a strange little badge; narrowing his eyes down at it he found it quite bright. Cross-like in shape he raised an eyebrow down at it curiously.

A creation of the Healing Church?

Possibly.

Pocketing the badge, he could only speculate as to the goods he would be able to purchase before striding forward to the last double-doors at the end of the corridor. Sure enough as he half-expected, the doors were locked and he clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

No way I'm getting through there, he thought.

"So then why did Gehrman-sensei send me up here?"

In spite of his initial words upon their meeting, Gehrman seemed to be focused on assisting the youth in finding answers.

There must be something else hidden here, he thought.

His silent reflections were finally answered when he descended further down, managing to find a crude rock and boulder to drop down to. When he opted to turn into a small corridor, his eyes widened at the find he made.

A huge drop lay below the wooden platforms that held themselves together rather roughly.

What the hell?

His mind raced again at the thought of what could possibly be laying down there in wait.

Could be anything, he thought to himself.

But there must be something.

With that thought driving him on, the youth turned his eyes down to the small wooden platforms beneath him.

There was a way to leap down carefully...

I never liked heights, he thought in a light grimace.

With a tentative step forward, he dropped downward and soon found himself landing nice and centre on the right side of the long wooden platform beneath. With another series of careful but deft drops, Stewart soon managed to find himself on the cusp of landing on the one platform he actually truly cared about. His eyes narrowed down at the platform below; kneeling down to his left leg and extending his Hunter's Torch forward and down he managed to spy the strangely intact double-doors laying below.

What could it all be about?

Only one way to find out...

~

His heart raced when he pushed apart the two doors he once spied from above, eyes narrowed. With a single grunt they were finally aside of one another and Stewart soon found his path unbarred. Letting nothing else stop him, the youth finally entered the place he was encouraged by his mentor to.

Almost immediately he was hit with a bizarre sense of deja vu.

"What the...?" Stewart murmured as he walked out from the descending staircase.

I know this place, he thought.

His silent suspicions were soon sizzling even further when he pressed slowly on. His hunter weapons and tools were placed on his belt and his eyes swerved around the foggy dreamscape background. The beaten and worn path before him swerved on two paths; one to his right and one dead ahead. Opting to take the one before him he continued onwards and soon found the course straying sharply to his right. A worrying sense of vertigo and hidden fear began to gnaw silently at him as he viewed the shrubbery dotted countlessly around his surroundings.

It can't be, he thought.

Surely not...?

When he finally emerged to the clearing his grown anxiety was soon confirmed.

His eyes widened at the large darkened workshop building looming over him, leant at an angle.

The same angle he remembered.

"But that's..." Stewart began lowly, his mutterings melting into the foggy air.

The Hunter's Dream, he thought.

Strangely, the only thing missing so far that he noticed were the bathtub messengers in the corner to his far left and the gravestones he had previously used to travel from the Hunter's Dream.

What the hell is going on?

Am I being taken for a fool here?

So many questions floated in and out of his head before he could even pin them down with words.

Choosing to press onward the youth steeled his shaken nerves and re-narrowed his eyes. Walking up the winding stairway he used so often, he attempted to ready himself for the sight that was soon behold to him.

Though he expected it, it did very little to ease the growing horror.

Though papers and things lay strewn around the wooden floor and other slight imperfections, it was a complete match.

An abandoned old workshop.

Finally taking further steps forward his narrowed eyes glided across the area and soon double-took; a shining ornament lay hidden in a cabinet to his right. He watched it suspiciously, turning his body to face it and leaned forward; opening the cabinet up with a dusty squeak he allowed his gloved hands to touch the similarly dirty but shining ornament.

Upon closer inspection it was a decorating piece, seemingly for hair of all things.

What was this doing in a workshop?

As if to answer his silent queries however, as he held the ornament in his right gloved hand, he turned his eyes to his left once more to find the leaning and sitting form of a familiar creation indeed.

His eyes widened when he saw the familiar form of the plain doll staring right back at him.

Pressing forward slowly and walking past the unlit lamp behind him he could only stare over at it as he approached the main table. While he stared over at it, laying leant to the side and dressed as he remembered, his eyes snapped down at its laid left hand in its lap.

Did its finger just move?

But this isn't the dream, he thought to himself.

So then...?

An unhealthy, questionable chill ran up his spine as he shook his head away from the sight, opting to turn his examining eyes down on the main table below him.

What he saw trumped even the doll.

A long and spiralling piece of night-black flesh lay on a soft rag on the table below him, covered in fresh ebony liquid.

What the hell is that?

Reaching down, ever so carefully, Stewart's eyes narrowed half-suspiciously and half-curiously. Being careful not to touch the strange flesh or liquid themselves, he used his hands to grasp at the small rag containing it.

Under the rag it still felt warm.

How was that possible?

And where was this thing even from?

So many questions, he thought.

"One thing's for sure...," Stewart murmured to himself as he turned his eyes upward to watch the worn statue behind the long cobweb above him suspiciously. "You're gonna get some questions... Gehrman-sensei."

–

2

"Welcome home, good hunter."

Stewart's eyebrows lifted up as his consciousness regained in tandem with those soft spoken and familiar words. His vision soon fixed itself and he found himself staring back at the smiling and tall form of the Plain Doll before him.

"What is it you desire?" She asked him, smiling down at him.

"Hi...," Stewart greeted in a nervous smile of his own, rubbing the back of his long-haired head as he did so. "I'm sorry about... last time..."

"It is quite all right, good hunter," she smiled softly down at him, her connected fingers and hands joining together at her front lap. "It can be rather surprising for new hunters."

"Y-Yeah I guess so," Stewart chuckled anxiously, chortling in his shut-eyed smile. When he brought his free right arm back down however his eyes re-opened to match his sincere frown. He went into his hunter garb to retrieve the small hair ornament he picked up not minutes earlier. "I... wanted to hand you... this." The youth spoke out in his frown as he extended the ornament forward. The Plain Doll at first blinked at him and then, slowly, down at the decoration piece. He nodded up at her, as if to confirm his intentions and she soon slowly reached forward to grasp at the accessory.

"Wha... what is this...?" She murmured out, her accent strong but spoken softly as ever. She grasped the small treasure in both hands now, rising it to her neck; she shut her eyes quietly, as if to ponder to herself. "I-I can't remember, not a thing, only... I feel...," she began once more before her eyes gradually re-opened as if to perfectly time her words. "A yearning... something... I've never felt before..." The doll murmured out as she reached up with one of her free hands, seeming for her eyes.

Stewart's own eyebrows lifted when he caught a rather large teardrop descend from her eye.

"What's happening to me...?" She could only manage out before continuing. "Ahh... tell me hunter, could this be joy?" She pressed on as she gradually extended her free left hand forward. Stewart's eyes narrowed down at the large teardrop.

It was solid.

As strange as the doll herself, he thought.

He put on a light and wan smile and nodded in confirmation as he took the teardrop from her gratefully.

"I'm just... glad you like it, I guess." The youth could only chuckle. Pocketing the gem to open later, he began to ascend the winding staircase as he usually did, issuing the smiling doll a tip of his hat in greeting.

His smile dissolved as soon as he entered the workshop's building however; when he spied the smiling Gehrman sitting in his wheelchair not far from his position he nodded and pressed on forward.

"Ah... good hunter...," Gehrman greeted him with, ever gripping the trusty cane between his resting legs. "How is the night going...?"

"Enough of the pleasantries," Stewart shot out with rudely and angrily, stepping forward on the curious-faced Gehrman. "You're hiding something from me."

"What are you talking about?" The old man questioned, his smile still ever evident on his easy-going expression.

Reaching into his hunter's garb he pulled out the strangely dry cord he had found inside the abandoned workshop. Without a single word he glared down at his mentor, his anger running high. Gehrman's eyes widened as he caught sight of it, his smile soon fading from his face.

"How did you find that...?" The experienced warrior merely murmured out from his seat, eyes narrowing upward at the youth.

"You sent me up there... remember?" Stewart shot back in his own narrow-eyed frown as he pocketed the cord. Gehrman stared back at him challengingly and the pair shared an awkward and strong silence together.

"Yes...," he agreed in a slow nod. "Yes I did."

Silence once more.

"I want answers," the dreaming hunter reiterated strongly in his narrow-eyed frown. "I'm sick of fumbling around in the dark here."

"Answers...?" Gehrman murmured out before moving his wheelchair forward very slightly. It gave an agonising, loud squeak to life as it approached the youth. Stewart's courage faltered just a little and he took a step back from his mentor. "You have a contract, whelp," the old and knowledgeable old man corrected in a hissing whisper of his words. His smile was now gone in place of a narrow-eyed scowl. "What do you think ye're doing in sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?"

Stewart gasped and took yet another step back, feeling his argument weaken. He soldiered on regardless however. "You can't expect me just to-"

"Expect?"

Gehrman's sudden interruption caused his eyes to widen and for his words to falter mid-sentence.

"I expect you to uphold your bargain of the contract you signed with the blood minister... boy," the intimidating old warrior explained very briefly, soon cornering the youth. Though Stewart narrowed his eyes down at him he soon found his own gaze shaking; he turned his eyes away from his adviser in silent defeat, a frustrated scowl on his lips. "Good...," Gehrman murmured out as he pulled himself back from his leant forward position. Still gripping his trusty cane, he issued his student a final farewell. "See and try not to poke yer nose through any other corners of Yharnam y'shouldn't... eh?"

With that, the cockney-sounding old man about turned on his chair and wheeled off slowly, leaving Stewart to his thoughts. The young man re-turned his eyes to watch his coach and teacher leave, eyes lightly narrowing.

Why isn't he telling me, he thought.

Whatever it is...

… I have to know.

~

"The password..."

Stewart's ears picked up the sound of a man laughing, muffled behind the doorway. He continued to speak even as he narrowed his eyes at the door and listened on. Unable to hear his crazed mutterings, Stewart re-opened his mouth to continue.

"Fear... the old blood."

The man's mutterings stopped, almost immediately. A chill ran up Stewart's spine and he nearly jumped when he felt the ground rumble very lightly; the double-doors before him soon creaked back to life and parted ahead of him. Fog curled around his ankles and, as he placed his glove on the Hunter's Axe hanging at his belt, the youth's eyes narrowed forward before soon widening in alarm.

What in the name...?

His grip soon softened and he relaxed his stance, only to find a sitting skeleton dressed rather smartly. Merely resting on a fallen piece of debris, its leaning posture seemed to almost be staring at him.

Another chill ran up Stewart's spine as he watched the skeleton wearing the top hat, fear gnawing at him.

Already dead, he thought to himself.

He didn't stay any longer than he had to.

–

3

Yet more fog curled 'round his ankles and Stewart's appreciation for the forbidden woods that he walked in began to lessen.

I hate this place, he thought to himself.

Everything looks the same; it was difficult to tell areas apart.

When he advanced on up a hill however he found a small wooden shack with many pieces of small debris hanging outside it. His head double-took in its direction and his eyes widened when he caught it.

A survivor perhaps?

Pressing forward, a rare smile appearing on his countenance, Stewart ascended upward to knock on the wooden door before him. He opened his mouth to speak but, before he could, a strange voice replied back to him.

"... Oh, a hunter of beasts, are you? Glory be. You know not the value you possess."

Stewart blinked in response.

"... But, more's the pity... the hours of the night are many, and beasts more than I can count. A veritable hunt unending!"

Though his voice seemed refined somehow, Stewart sensed something off about it.

What was he hiding?

"Not even death offers solace, and the blood imbibes you. Ha, a most frightful fate, oh my. But... I'm willing... to do you a kindness."

His words, now spoken with a sickly sweet tone, made Stewart narrow his eyes in half-suspicion, half-curiosity.

"Step lightly 'round to the right of the great cathedral, and seek an ancient, shrouded church."

To the side, he thought.

One of the forking paths he never took?

Where, in the Cathedral Ward?

"... The gift of the godhead will grant you strength... yes... I'm unquestionably certain."

The man's deeper voice spoke lowly and with a strange seeming chuckle to his words. As if to work in tandem with them however, a strange deformed rock of all things was pushed out of one of the openings in the shed. Stewart's eyes widened and he snapped his eyes between the stone and the open part of the shed it was lightly pushed through.

Was this for him?

Stewart watched it carefully before reaching forward with his left hand and soon grasped the rock. Finding it surprisingly dense, Stewart's eyes widened down at it.

Why is it so heavy?

And who is that behind the shack?

Stewart's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and unconvincingly.

"What do I do...?" The youth murmured to himself as he raised the tonsil stone up to his eyes, narrowing them down at it thoughtfully.

Press on to Byrgenwerth...

… or take the lead?

~

Narrowing his eyes through the darkness he spun his new weapon, Ludwig's Holy Blade, of the blood that had gathered on the large sheath-like blade. Grunting as he placed the huge blade on his back he yanked the smaller sword out from the back of it in an effort-filled scrunch of the side of his face before soon descending down the quiet clearing.

Just as the strange voice had told him, this area definitely had an extra church on the right side of the grand cathedral...

… but why?

In the end Stewart chose to seek the strange nameless man's advice; though dubious and unsure, it was the best lead he had in ages.

The whole thing stunk to high heaven...

But my nose has been out in the cold too long, he thought to himself.

When he approached the small staircase that descended downwards into the church itself, his eyes narrowed forward. Entering tentatively, the young dreaming hunter scanned his eyes across the new area around him.

Seemed more like an entrance to somewhere than a church...

So why was it designed like one, he thought.

He spied the strange, ritual-like bath in the centre of the area. Numerous small candles were lain 'roundabout the bath, as if to prepare for something. Stewart stared down at it attentively, unsure on its intentions.

What could these people be doing here?

His eyes soon raised up to the lit huge double-doors resting before him and they soon narrowed in suspicion.

The place was rather dark for a supposed church, he thought.

Pressing slowly forward Stewart's footsteps echoed lightly throughout the small church and, as he approached the large steel doors before him he frowned on up at them before raising a free left hand to test them.

Locked.

Figures, he thought.

A very strange sound and sight indeed however made the youth snap his eyes to his left; something coloured in a black sizzling aura began to circle his position and the young man's eyes widened.

"What the...?"

Though he managed out a small murmur he could not move in time to evade whatever suddenly grasped him. Stewart gasped and, as he was pulled up by some strange unseen force, he turned his eyes upward to find an outline of something huge grasping at him.

What the hell was that?

His mind began to race at possible scenarios in which this ended.

All in his inevitable death.

He struggled hopelessly before, finally, the spider-like monster pressed down firmly on him within its grip. Stewart's eyes rolled to the back of his head and, for the briefest of moments before he fell unconscious, he managed to finally see the creature before him.

Huge and spider-like indeed, it rested on the huge walls of the church building. Stewart managed to count as many as seven legs and arms it had in its possession before the strange man's words echoed with a veritable laugh within his mind.

"Oh Amygdala, oh Amygdala... have mercy on the poor bastard!"

–

4

"Only I... can be The One! The Prophecy of the Old-"

Stewart gasped awake, his eyes widening in shock. When his blurry vision soon returned to normal he snapped his eyes around himself and his surroundings.

Where am I?

Those words when I just woke up, he thought to himself.

Echoing within his mind... so familiar.

The hunter's torch he held in his free left hand lit up the area around him and he turned his eyes now to finally gauge where he was.

A large pack of shelves lay to his right, dotted with many documents, papers and other things that one would see in an office. To his rear sat bins and another large table. To his immediate left sat a handy lamp; he turned his eyes down to it and clicked his right fingers inside of it to activate it successfully before soon turning his eyes to his right and his front.

Another pair of double-doors lay before him but these were well designed, seemingly similar for an office of some kind.

Where the hell am I?

His thoughts soon returned to the massive spider-like creature that grasped him in its arms and he shuddered, a chill running up his spine.

I'd do anything to avoid encountering that again he thought to himself.

The youth pressed on finally and pushed apart the doors before him, his large great-sword hanging behind on his back. Stepping forward he narrowed his eyes and walked along carefully not to activate any hidden traps; he spied similar shelves and other such buildings littered throughout the seemingly abandoned complex, complete with small lanterns to light the place up.

At least I won't need a torch, he thought to himself.

"Hee, hee, hee, hee!"

Stewart's ears perked the sound of hushed laughter to his front position and he narrowed his eyes at it. Another pair of double-doors lay before him with a large cracked and smashed window.

I know that voice, he thought.

Pressing on to meet with the nameless man behind the doors he frowned back suspiciously and waited for him to continue speaking.

"What a joy it is, to behold the divine. It must be such a pleasure. You're in my debt, you know."

Stewart resisted the urge to snort loudly in response to the man's large and bald face poking out from the smashed window.

Surely he wasn't serious?

"You're nigh on a beast of the field, but here you are, treading a measure with the gods."

The gods?

"Are your feet as fat as your wits...?"

His sudden question made the youth raise a curious eyebrow.

What did he want now?

"Oh, cease this dithering! Take the plunge!" The nameless man grinned safely from behind the window. "Throw yourself to the wolves!"

Though he chuckled on in his words, Stewart merely opted to shake his head in half-disagreement with the dubious bald-headed man.

Parasite, he thought to himself.

Why bother trying to speak to it?

The youth turned on his heel and walked off to further investigate the building.

When he finally found a door that would that unlock, he walked through only to find a strange table-filled room with surprising small tools littered throughout. He passed them, eyes narrowed; a beaker, glass tubes and the like.

Was this an experimentation room?

Where the hell is this?

His racing thoughts struggled to connect themselves together until, finally, he pulled apart the next pair of doors on his right up the small staircase. When his eyes were greeted with the strangest sight he had seen thus far, they widened in alarm.

Suddenly his head began to ache.

And terribly.

Stewart grunted and turned both his arms to grip at his hat-wearing head, taking a few pained steps backward.

What the hell is this?

It was even worse than when he'd watched that vision within the grand cathedral.

"Argh..." Stewart muttered lowly under his breath; he pressed on regardless, gritting his teeth in spite of the pain.

Sure enough, a classroom lay before him.

Dozens of wooden chairs dotted the landscape around the classroom and a dead cadaver lay in the seat opposite the table at the dead centre of the room.

His head ached horribly.

Soon it became near unmanageable and Stewart could only gasp as he dropped to his knees, both arms gripped and all. His eyes scrunched shut as he felt flashes appear to and fro in his subconscious.

"Impressive!"

"I can see now why sensei Gehrman favours you so!"

The voice, so refined and familiar echoed throughout his mind. He continued to gasp in pain as he listened.

"You suspect me... don't you?"

"Yes... I am the Byrgenwerth-!"

Stewart's eyes finally wrenched themselves open and, through tear-stained pain, he turned his head upward and screamed as the agony soon became uncontrollable.


	9. Reawakening: Amnesiac No More

Chapter 9: Reawakening; Amnesiac No More  
Answers in the Dark Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Venta Black"; The Butcher's Theme - Five Nights at Freddy's; Sister Location OST. Scene 1 (First & Second Halves).  
"Hunter of the Dark" - Kingdom Hearts; Birth By Sleep Final Mix OST. Scene 3 (First Half).

\--

In the young Stewart's quest to find more information relating to his past history, he stumbles across a strange man indeed in his investigation of the Forbidden Woods. The man gives to him a similarly strange and dense tonsil stone of all things and sends him in the direction of a church opposite of the grand cathedral.

When there... Stewart's encounter is a grand one indeed.

Through means unknown to him, Stewart somehow finds himself in a lecture building of all things and one that is strangely familiar to him.

Once there old and long-forgotten memories begin to bubble away at the surface of his unconsciousness...

\--

Scene 1

"Impressive... this day goes... to you."

The young hunter re-opened his eyes surprisingly slowly; form began to retake before him. A classroom from his younger days lay before him; the same one he remembered. He stared over at it for a few seconds through the strands of his long dark-brown hair and, as he stood there silent and staring, the corner of his mouth slowly upturned into a low smirk.

Almost exactly as I planned, he thought to himself.

The newly reawakened Stewart began a similarly low chuckle that, over time, escalated into full-blown maniacal laughter.

"How do you like that Laurence?!" Stewart exclaimed out suddenly, grinning openly down at the dead cadaver sitting in the lecturer's chair. "An entire city of men searched for me and you still could not find me!" He called out, his voice echoing loudly in the classroom's chamber. His voice had changed from its common, foreign accent now into a refined and almost regal one.

One that suited the background of Yharnam.

His smirk was soon lost to him in favour of a low scowl however and he snapped his eyes to his right as if to watch the way he came. He turned his head to the door he just came through a few hours ago and scowled horribly as he thought of the last person he spoke to.

Time to set him right.

~

Climbing down the ladder as slowly and as carefully as he could, the youth's scowl never left his expression. As expected, the spider-like creature before him did not manage to hear him approach; his scowl still fresh on his face, Stewart slowly approached the creature. When making the final step toward him he allowed the spider to finally hear him by making his final step a loud stomp. As if to react to his shocking presence, the arachnid with a bald human head immediately jumped to action; he gasped and turned to scurry off onto the wall and the table to both their sides.

The newly reawakened Stewart merely watched him go, his low scowl still constant on his face.

"Oh, this cannot be... you cannot be...!" The arachnid murmured out, his once eternal grin gone from his face as he watched the scowling youth before him. "N-No, you didn't...," he continued on, his body shaking in proverbial fear. "... How did this... come to pass...?"

"Yes, Patches...," Stewart merely spoke up this time in response, his scowl slowly slipping into a low smirk. "It is and it can be," he grinned on as he stared back at the strange creature staring back at him. "I have re-awoken... no longer am I that weak boy."

"You... you know my name," the spider-like creature began as it stared back at him, turning its head back in a leant position. "How...?"

"I know lots of things," he replied back in his low grin, staring back through his long hair and his large hat. "You should be rightfully rewarded my little coward."

The newly introduced Patches could only stare back at the youth, leaning his head to the side in silent wonder.

"If not for you then I would still be that weakling pissant," the youth shot out with crudely but honestly. A grin adorned on his lips as he spoke, confident in his words. Patches stared at him wordlessly, listening. "Even while I was still dormant I have achieved so much," the young hunter chuckled lowly before soon bowing forward, almost mockingly so, his left arm held to his left side and his right in a similar position. "Say hello, Patches, once more...," he began before chuckling lowly in his smirk as he bowed. "To the Byrgenwerth Butcher."

–

2

The dreaming hunter stepped outside the ascending staircase and narrowed his eyes, his ears perked up at the sound of flesh being ripped apart and eaten.

What was that sound?

I know that sound, he thought.

Intimately.

Turning his head to his right on the roof he stood on the young man stared over at the sight before him.

What would make a normal man's hair stand on end made the reawakened Butcher smile.

A bandaged man leant over a pile of dead bodies covered in blood seemed to indulge himself in the feast before him.

Oh joy, he thought to himself.

The Butcher put on his most endearing smile as he stepped forward to approach the shoeless and seemingly homeless man before him. He allowed the nameless man to hear him and, as the spider before him, the bandaged man gasped and about-turned. He rose up on his feet, eyes widened before staring back at the smiling youth.

"Greetings." The Butcher started in his fake smile. Though his accent was still the same from when he awakened, his manner had changed completely.

"Blimey! Don't scare me like that!" The man requested in a light smile of his own, as if jolly of all things. "On a night like this... I took you fer a monster!"

The Butcher resisted the urge to smirk back in response; he merely nodded in faux understanding, still smiling invitingly.

"Thank the stars... yer fairly normal..." The seemingly homeless man murmured out. The Butcher watched him carefully; though he wore nothing on his torso except bandages his nerves were standing on end.

This was no normal man.

As if the dead bodies littered around didn't tip him off regardless.

"Was it you who put down that awful beast?" The suspicious beggar questioned curiously. The Butcher turned his eye down to his belted Hunter's Axe, covered in the wolf beast's blood before slowly turning back to smile.

"Evidently." The youth smiled in response.

"Ooh... that thing had me tremblin'," the nameless beggar claimed humbly, wincing in tandem to his words as if to give effect. "Frozen in me boots and then you came along," he smiled this time as he nodded over to the youth gratefully. "Well... if you're a hunter...," he began, questioningly this time, frowning. "Would you know of any... safe havens?" He asked curiously.

The Butcher's smile flashed in and out of itself, trembling; the suspicious beggar watched him curiously.

He's getting suspicious, he thought.

Time to end this.

"Yes... yes I do actually," the Butcher replied with in a nod, restrengthening his smile. The homeless bandaged man's eyes widened before he smiled gratefully in response. "Come closer...," the youth requested as he used his free left index finger to pull the older man in. "It's a secret."

Silence.

The pair stared one another down and the beggar's smile was soon faltered in place of a similarly suspicious frown.

The Butcher's smile never left his own expression.

Finally however, the beggar moved to action and stepped forward lightly. He leaned his body and the right side of his ear toward the youth.

The Butcher took the opportunity he was given.

He grabbed him with his free left arm and pulled out the poison knife he carried with his right; the beggar's eyes widened but by then it was far too late.

SQUELCH

The beggar's eyes widened and blood soon began to trickle down the side of his mouth, leaning into the youth's embrace; the Butcher merely smiled as he pulled him further closer.

"Shh..," he whispered in the older man's ear. "It'll all be over soon..."

As if to finally react to the youth's comments, the beggar's eyes widened and the ground rumbled noisily beneath them both. The Butcher's own eyes narrowed and, recognising the transformation, removed his right hand from the knife he stuck in the man's stomach before quickstepping backward.

"Have you got a screw loose...?"

~

The beggar's voice changed to match the rapid transformation he now stood in; the Butcher put on a confident smirk when he saw the man's scrawny body morph into a looming tall form indeed. His thick bushy fur stood on end to match the tiny sparks of lightning that passed between them all as if to suggest a fondness for the element. His claws shined in the silvery moonlight that bathed between them both and, finally, his beady crimson blood eyes stared back at the dreaming hunter, hungry for flesh.

"Or is it your... animal intuition...?" The abhorrent beast growled on over at him, his voice now much lower and demonic in tone. He slowly stalked the smirking Butcher; the youth gradually walked back the way he came, as if to lead him somewhere. "You hunters've got more blood on your 'ands!" The beast roared angrily at him before leaping forward to attack him.

The Butcher's eyes widened before soon quickstepping to his right sharply, narrowly avoiding the man's descending clawed swipe. Infused with lightning it broke apart part of the roof that they fought on, spitting up debris and rocks.

Impressive, he thought.

"I'm glad we met!" He called on over at the growling beast; it rotated its beady-bloody eyes over to glare on back at him. The lightning on its fur crackled noisily. "I was wondering what that stench was!" The Butcher continued on in his laughter, clearly goading the creature. Its eyes seemed to slit in anger as it listened before soon bounding at him in an instant. The Butcher's grin never left him even as he slid across the ground in another quickstep evasion, pulling out his trusty Hunter's Axe. Extending it as he slid, he soon widened his eyes as he shot across the air from whence he came, the blade of his weapon held across the way.

SQUELCH

Again he managed to injure the growling abhorrent beast and, this time, having poison affixed to his Hunter's Axe seemed to be helping his job. The beast turned and screamed lividly at him, shaking the roof that they both stood on; the Butcher merely stood in his smirk, his back facing his opponent. He held his Hunter's Axe just short of the blade to his right side, resting the handle on the ground below him.

The Butcher didn't move from his spot; not even when the enraged brute leapt at him following its roar.

As he had seemingly planned the once brisk form of the abhorrent beast soon lost its lustre; in mid-air its beady-red eyes widened and it coughed loudly. Blood dropped from its mouth before it soon dropped to the roof painfully, skidding across the ground roughly. It grunted in its pain as its movement finally came to a stop just short of the youth's black boots.

The poison was at last in effect.

Finally reacting, the Butcher turned his grinning eyes down to watch the scowling beast's face before soon spinning his Hunter's Axe around deftly and impressively overhead.

He then brought it down on the monster's open face with a resounding smothering, flesh being ripped open by the strength of the axe. The Butcher smirked down at the fallen form of the once intimidating beast, seemingly having outwitted it completely.

"D-Die! Die, die!" The lightning-infused creature stammered over, seemingly in pain as it attempted to swipe at the youth's legs with its claws fruitlessly. "Hunters are killers! Nothing less!" The nameless beggar roared at him, his voice full of vigour this time. "You call me a beast? A beast?!" He continued to shout, almost as if to reason with the youth. The Butcher stared back at him, his weapon still stuck into the man's skull. "What would you know?!" The beggar continued on before his eyes soon narrowed. "I didn't ask for this!"

"That may be..." The Butcher murmured out in his low smirk before it slowly curled up in intensity.

CRACK

The Hunter's Axe was finally wrenched free of the beggar's skull and he howled out in pain to match the sudden painful action. The Butcher chuckled lowly and knowingly as he raised the axe overhead and spun it around himself expertly, the beast's blood shooting up into the sky as it howled noisily.

"But it hardly matters now... does it?" He finished as he was bathed in the creature's crimson life-juices, his toothy smirk shining in the moonlight.

–

3

The Butcher stepped forward to reach a clearing; his eye scanned the area thoughtfully and they narrowed.

Someone was definitely here.

A large gravestone lay to his right, leaning to the side and a small number of gravestones sat to the left side.

As he strode forward a few more steps, the youth double-took ahead of himself when he saw approaching darkened shadows.

A small corner of his lips upturned into a satisfied smirk when he spied the approaching trio of intruders, all wielding different weapons. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their mysterious cloaks of ebony, black as night.

Just as I expected, the Butcher thought to himself in his growing grin.

The three darkened figures tentatively but surely approached his position; the one in the centre brandished a long and intimidating scimitar. The one on its left wielded a similar weapon but also carried a peculiar candle in its hands while the one on the right merely seemed to possess pyromancy power of some kind, a mace hanging on its free hand.

Impressive, the Butcher thought to himself.

I had thought that pyromancy was long-forgotten.

The youth reached down to his belt and pulled out the mace-like Tonitrus he had retrieved from Yahar'gul, his smirk still strong on his face. Pulling the mace up to his left, he used his previous knowledge of the workshop to buff the weapon with bright, blue lightning. It sparked noisily and, as the Butcher calmly advanced toward the similarly approaching trio, they seemed to almost stare one another down, the silence in the area palpitating.

Finally however the shadows acted; when they came within range, the first shadow leapt at him, scimitar slashing at the air he once resided in. The Butcher used his superior speed to dance through the shadows themselves and chuckled lowly as he passed through the three, seemingly surprising them all; the trio turned their cloaks around, presumably in search for him but it was too late.

The Butcher re-appeared as fast as he disappeared to the pyromancy wielding shadow's undefended side. With a yell of effort, the youth leapt at the cloaked warrior and easily tackled him to the ground; the pair rolled across the ground and, as they finally came to their stop, the Butcher grinned widely in the moonlight as he rose his buffed Tonitrus overhead.

If the faceless shadow could have screamed, he probably would have by this point.

SMASH

The Butcher laughed raucously as he watched his lightning-infused mace mash apart the poor cloaked warrior's body, burning the fabric of his clothes. Executing a series of combo attacks to finish off the shadow he laughed onwards as he watched it slowly fall limp to the ground, seemingly defeated. He raised his eyes upward to watch the pair of shadows similarly monitoring him; the Butcher's grin was soon lost to him when he noticed them fail to approach him.

Why were they watching him?

When he felt the ground rumble beneath him the youth's eyes widened and he snapped his eyes down to face the transforming shadow. The young hunter immediately back-shifted off of the fallen shadow; his eyes narrowed thoughtfully and suspiciously at the trio of snakes and cobras that poked out from the shadow's dark faceless mask.

Interesting, he thought.

Better not let it gain any ground on me.

With that thought burning through his aching head, the Butcher leapt forward once more and roared in a mix of frustrating and effort as he re-buffed his Tonitrus and smashed it noisily against the shadow as he passed it. When it lazily threw the flames it contained in its left hand, attempting to hit him and inevitably missing, the dreaming youth spun around and swept the cloaked warrior's feet, knocking him down.

As he spun around one final time, the Butcher scowled horribly as he brought his own mace overhead once more before soon colliding it painfully down onto the defenceless fighter. The snakes in its face gave an echoing cry of defeat as the shadow soon faded, seemingly a sign of its own defeat; the Butcher couldn't help but smirk, a small bead of sweat dropping from his brow. His eyes snapped upwards and his grin was lost to him however when he barely saw the leaping second shadow, its scimitar coated in fire paper, carrying a candle in its free hand.

The Butcher grunted in effort as he back-flipped acrobatically, narrowly avoiding the singing and fog-like air the shadow managed to strike through. The first shadow quickly gave pursuit, opting not to let the youth rest in his evasion; the Butcher grunted once more and scrunched his eyes shut as he bent his body backwards. The shadow's fire-coated scimitar swept through the air horizontally and he barely managed to avoid the cloaked warrior's attack before yet another mix-up managed to take him by surprise.

The last remaining shadow re-appeared at his undefended side, bare scimitar held back to attack with.

No!

With barely any extra stamina to work with the Butcher was inevitably and finally struck by one of the shadows' attacks; he grunted and scowled in pain as he was sent careering across the foggy ground, rolling through the rocky surface. His blood sailed on after him and, as it did, the Butcher growled in a mix of anger and pain as he used his free left hand to recover; he pushed off of the rough ground beneath him to side-flip through the air and landed on one knee. He narrowed his eyes forward and scowled, scrunching the bloody side of his face shut.

His head pounded horribly; an obvious headache.

"Why...?" He growled out in a low warning murmur, scowling horribly as he did so.

Those headaches were merely a result of my lost memories returning to me, he thought to himself.

Why have they returned?!

In spite of his growing anger at his unanswered questions, the shadows of Yharnam offered him little to no respite; the remaining pair of enemies teamed together in an effort to chase the youth down. They both split their forces up and dashed in opposite directions, diagonally staring down the scowling Butcher. The young dreaming hunter grasped at his injured left arm with his weapon holding right, snapping his blood-trickled face between the approaching pair.

They easily cornered him.

"Bastards..." The angry youth cursed out lowly before soon turning to spit stray blood down at the ground, his eyes never leaving the pair. He went into his hunter garb for a quick blood vial; sticking his injured area in a single grunt his scowl never left him, even as he ringed his left arm around to reassure himself it was working properly. The pair of cloaked warriors soon came within range and when they did, they acted; the one on the right shifted forward very quickly and the Butcher's eyes shot over to glare at his snake-faced opponent.

The youth reacted in turn; using his extended Hunter's Axe as a pole to vault off of, he grunted as he side-flipped over the fire-coated scimitar that came flying for him. He soon found himself coming face to face with the fast-approaching second shadow however; confronting the Butcher from an air-to-air position, he pulled his own base scimitar back to attack with.

"Fools..." The Butcher chuckled before widening his eyes and suddenly scowling in tandem with the effort he began to exude; the youth brought his axe back the way before roaring with the tremendous force he pushed into his next attack.

CLINK

His broad axe easily outstripped the scimitar and the shadow uttered no sound in response, even as it was suddenly brought crashing back down to the ground.

SMASH

The ground exploded in an impressive show of smoke and splint rocks; the Butcher's raucous laugh was near drowned out completely in the deafening sound of the exchange. Even as he yanked his Hunter's Axe clean from the dissipating form of his enemy his eyes snapped to his far-left, sensing another approach. The youth opted instead this time however to stand perfectly still, his eyes turning back to stare directly ahead of him at the large gravestone before him. His extended Hunter's Axe lay to the ground next to him much as it had done in his previous encounter with the abhorrent beast.

When the final shadow finally came within range it acted; with an echoing charge it shot through the standing form of the young serial killer, swiping its fire-coated scimitar across his body. As if unable to believe it, the cobra-faced cloaked warrior froze in its final attack, bent forward from the effort it exuded. Finally however, it turned to examine its handiwork.

The smirking form of the young Butcher stared back at him but this one a flickering, flashing form.

The last remaining shadow flinched, visibly shocked; it snapped its head upwards presumably to trace its super-fast opponent but, unfortunately, it was far too late.

The Byrgenwerth Butcher at last re-appeared directly skyward and descended down upon the last shadow, extended Hunter's Axe held backwards and coated with lightning. The sparks lit up his long-haired, psychotic, whooping face and though the shadow attempted to move it could not.

BZT-BANG

The lightning coating the workshop's blade made the inevitable explosion all the stronger and, as the Butcher finally collided with his last victim, the smoke that materialised from his action covered them both up from common view.

The fighting arena fell into a deathly silent lull and, when the smoke finally cleared up from the wreckage caused, only the mad-faced Butcher stood over the multiple bloody stains on the ground below him. His Hunter's Axe brightened his mad, toothy smirk up and, as he turned to watch the fog inevitably dissipate, his eyes narrowed hungrily and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Prey... Slaughtered."


	10. Revisitation; Back to Byrgenwerth

Chapter 10: Revisitation; Back to Byrgenwerth  
Answers in the Dark Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Where Dreams Die" - Ultimate Custom Night OST. Scene 1 (First & Second Halves).  
"Sacred Distance" - Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance OST. Scene 3 (First & Second Halves).

\--

In the land of Yharnam, close to the rich city of Byrgenwerth, there once lived an infamous serial killer.

The media there, and the officials hunting them, referred to them as simply the 'Byrgenwerth Butcher'.

Rumoured to be a man of incredible strength and intelligence, the Byrgenwerth Butcher managed to amass an untold amount of victims in his rise to infamy. From street workers to government officials and even those affiliated with the Healing Church, the Byrgenwerth Butcher knew no bounds from his sick and depraved acts of slaughter.

In the height of his infamy the Butcher, forced to evict himself from his native land, leaves Byrgenwerth a free man but in some strange, unknown twist, somehow he finds himself thrust into the position as the Hunter's Dream's next dreaming hunter. He leaves himself only one word with which to stay his course, even in an amnesic state.

'Paleblood'.

\--

Scene 1

Stewart gasped as he dragged himself across the ground painfully, his injuries becoming severe. Far off into the darkened streets of Yharnam came the echoing calls of men shouting to find him; barking dogs joined them, on the sniff for their aggressor. The badly bleeding boy could barely breathe as he shambled forward into the darkness of the seemingly abandoned clinic. He had narrowly managed to avoid getting caught and killed by the chasing officials and Healing Church forces before making it to Central Yharnam.

Things are quickly taking a dive, he thought to himself in growing despair.

Dragging himself across the ground he scanned his wavy, dream-like eyesight around himself; beds containing groaning victims of hunts lay dotted around him.

This was a clinic.

Good, he thought.

I'm on the right track.

"Almost... there...," the young man managed to murmur out effortfully, using the beds he passed as support for his failing limbs. "Just... need... blood..."

Even in speaking however, the youth's strength soon failed him; he coughed out the very expression he had expressed before soon dropping to the ground just under a bed. His eyes scrunched shut in pain, the wooden floor stained with crimson-blood. Stewart never even heard the excruciating sound of a wheelchair approach him, his attention far too focused on the immeasurable pain he felt.

"What's this...?" The voice atop the wheelchair spoke; Stewart gasped a second time and his eyes widened in response before soon snapping upwards.

He saw only weathered old shoes staring back at him and youth's eyes widened in surprise.

Who-?

"Ah... a lost lamb wanderth in...," the voice spoke again; an old man's seemingly. "Doctor! Another one for you!"

The chair-bound man's words echoed deep into the youth's mind, falling unconscious from his grievous wounds.

~

"Why are we keeping him alive...?"

"Because he's young."

"But he could be the..."

"I don't care what we think he could be."

Stewart groaned; the voices echoed and he could not seem to see the owners much less anything else.

"I think he's awake..."

"Then it's time we greeted him... hm Iosefka...?"

Stewart gasped as he felt around his body; soft quilted covers greeted the touch of his fingertips and he quickly made the assertation that he was bed-ridden.

Hold on, he thought.

What about my pursuers?

"Don't worry boy... don't struggle," the familiar old voice floated over to him; the sound of his wheelchair whirring made the youth realise he was approaching him. "Here..."

As if on reaction he felt the nameless old man pull apart the soft bandages resting across his once injured eyes. His vision, now revealed completely, drank in the sight of the recovery room he now rested in. His eyes caught a frowning young woman staring back at him suspiciously from half-way across the room. Dressed in a smock covering her plain white dress, her long brown hair was kept in a neat ponytail, a small portion of it covering her left eye. Blood covered her surgeon's smock, seemingly suggesting to her position as doctor.

Stewart's own suspicions grew and he stared back at the nameless doctor before him, his thoughts racing.

Did they sell me out?

"Now... if you'd tell us your name young sir... that'd be much appreciated." The elderly, bearded man spoke, still confined to his wheelchair. He smiled on over at the youth invitingly and raised up his left hand, palm outstretched as if to encourage the boy on. Stewart's eyes darted from between the listening and watching pair before he finally deigned to open his mouth.

"Stewart."

"And your last name...?"

Silence.

Though the awkwardness weighted their conversation down, Stewart eventually relented but not without grit-toothed regret.

"Forbes." He finally spoke out in his refined Yharnam accent.

"I don't trust him," the young woman advised aloud as she stood across from the watching youth; Stewart's eyes snapped over to glare back at the supposed doctor before him. "The Healing Church are looking for a man fitting his description."

"Come now, he's but a young lad," the minister shot over his shoulder in his grin before he soon turned his grin on the youth resting before him. He nodded his shaggy haired and bearded head upwards at the young man. "How old are you son?"

"Seventeen." He honestly stated out for the third time, turning his eyes away from the watching pair.

"Ah, there, you see?" The nameless minister smiled as he 'rounded on the folded armed doctor across from them. "He can't possibly be the one they're looking for."

"I still don't like this."

With that final statement, the young woman turned on her heel, her shoes clicking noisily against the hardwood of the floors they rested on. A door shut loudly behind her, leaving the pair of men alone. Stewart watched her leave with a narrow-eyed frown of his own before soon turning back to face his new company.

"Now that we're alone...," the minister smiled, almost suspiciously; Stewart's suggestive scowl stayed true to his expression as he watched him wheel forward slowly. "You are he are you not?" He asked, raising a curious eyebrow upward as he did so. Stewart's eyes narrowed warningly, as if to dissuade him from continuing but the man would not stop. "The Byrgenwerth Butcher...?"

Stewart opted not to admit to anything; he kept his mouth welded shut. The minister chuckled, almost as if in knowing.

"Good...," he murmured out as he whirred forward in a light nod. "So... you must be a strong boy... with some brains to match..."

Again, the youth opted to remain silent; he stared back in his mute-eyed glare.

"Have you ever had training to become a hunter by any chance...?"

A part of Stewart's scowling face twitched in response; the minister smirked knowingly.

"Just as the law enforcement suggest...," the talkative old man chuckled in a nod. "Good... now...," he began once more before finally making the last approach toward the youth. He placed down a silvery piece of parchment, aged from time and weathered from use. It glowed a strange silvery moonlight and as Stewart stared down at it, his eyes widened for the first time in actual surprise.

He knew what this was.

"You know, don't you...?" The minister questioned him, raising an amused eyebrow. "Yes...," he chuckled. "We have need of you, young Stewart..."

Stewart's eyes slowly flitted back up to his new seeming ally and his scowl slowly slipped into a suggestive smirk as if to match his new comrade. The pair stared at one another and, as the minister handed him a quill pen, a kind of silent dialogue between them.

Aren't I lucky, Stewart thought to himself.

He resisted the urge to laugh in the minister's face and grinned on down at the parchment before slowly writing his name down in block capitals.

STEWART FORBES

"Now... before we begin the transfusion... there may be a memory impairment; just a friendly warning." The old man warned in his smile. Stewart's grin was soon lost to him and he frowned in surprise.

Oh no, he thought.

"It's nothing serious... but all those attached to the dream undergo this unfortunately."

"Give me that quill pen!"

His sudden exclamation and jump to life startled the elderly minister; he pulled his body back into his wheelchair and stared back at the youth. Finally however he passed it over to him and the youth leaned to his far-right as if to reach something. Unable to catch it however he turned his angry-eyed glare on the old man next to him.

"Don't just sit there you old fool!" He berated him angrily. "Pass me that paper!"

The elderly man turned to eye the battered old parchment lying on the empty chair next to them both; he wheeled over to his left and obeyed the youth out of sheer morbid curiosity before passing it over. Wasting no more time, Stewart used the small table to his right as a workstation and feverishly wrote down words. The silent blood minister leaned over to watch.

SEEK PALEBLOOD TO TRANSCEND THE HUNT.

"Oh, yes... Paleblood..." The minister chuckled lowly as he leaned back into his wheelchair, raising a curious eyebrow upward. "How do you know that word I wonder...?"

Opting instead to remain silent on the matter, Stewart merely shot the older and more experienced man a low smirk before soon handing back the paper and quill pen. The nameless minister took them both slowly and passed them away; the quill back into his inventory and the paper to its original position.

"Now... now I'm ready," Stewart shot over in a narrow-eyed smirk. "Give to me... a night of dreaming."

The minister merely chuckled lowly before reaching for the syringe he seemed to lay on a table next to him.

"It may be a while before you wake back up again...," the old man chuckled. "Stewart Forbes."

–

2

Re-opening his eyes forward, the Butcher could only curl his light frown into a slow, satisfied smirk.

I may have deviated a little from my initial route and been untrue to myself when I was ill...

… but here I stand, alive and well.

The youth swung his Tonitrus sharply to his right to rid it of the blood that had gathered on it from his attacks earlier. His smirk never left him, even as he sauntered forward into the clearing, dotted only by fog, trees, a small inclination spiralling downwards and a lamp leading back to the Hunter's Dream. The Butcher chuckled lowly as he entered forbidden and familiar territory; his chuckle soon elevated into maniacal laughter, echoing loudly throughout the abandoned city of men.

I have returned to my home-town, he thought.

Welcome to Byrgenwerth.

Been near unable to believe his returned memories, the youth continued on, his smirk still on his face. Merely strolling through the decrepit and abandoned city, the Butcher turned to watch the fog-curled streets of his familiar home.

"Ah, Byrgenwerth...," he murmured out fondly as he stepped down the small hill and onto the pavement. "Going down memory lane here... is a treat indeed," the young man smiled gratefully as he sauntered forwards, his eyes scanning the large familiar building to his right. "To be able to walk these streets once again, a free man with nothing to hide..." He murmured onwards in his smile, growing into a suggestive smirk.

It is truly the blessing of the presence, he thought to himself.

"Or should I call you... 'god'?"

~

As he had half-expected the place was barren of any visitors beside himself and a few fallen creatures that he easily disposed of. Once he reached the open double-doors of the college building he once entered numerous times in the past however, the youth smiled as he stepped through.

"I wonder... are you still here... sensei Willem?" The Butcher smiled out as he raised his eyes upward to the darkened corridors resting above him. To his left lay an unopened chest and to his front lay a winding staircase that led upwards.

As if to answer his own questions however he pressed onwards and stepped slowly across the steps leading upward. The youth double-took however and halted his progress almost as immediately as when he noticed a second presence walking similarly slowly towards him. His smile soon faltered and he frowned forward.

A woman?

Though the place was dark and much fog had curled around them he was able to deduce an official white dress-like uniform attached to her body.

"Ah... part of the Choir I see...," he murmured forwards in light greeting. If she heard him she didn't let him know; the woman merely continued to march gradually toward him, Threaded Cane held back seemingly to attack with; the Butcher's eyes spied it and darted down and back up at her in response. "What, no pithy comeback?" He called over this time in another light smile. "No... chit-chat?" He pressed on, attempting to lower her guard with taunts. As before, she budged not. "That's the problem with you Choir hunters you see; you have no sense of-"

SLASH

The Butcher back-flipped at the drop of a hat; the woman's Threaded Cane expanded and hacked noisily at the steps he once stood on. Landing gracefully on the banister of the staircase, the Byrgenwerth Butcher kept the confident smirk on his face as he watched.

"Temper, temper...," he continued to goad her, smiling over. "Come... this way..." The youth smiled as he drew the woman over with a pull of his free left index finger.

He soon flipped a second time to avoid her inevitable advance, landing gracefully in a light grunt. The Butcher turned his eye over to the slow walking Choir Hunter; her shoes clicking agonisingly noisily and slowly against the hardwood of the staircase she walked down. When she about-turned to finally face him he couldn't help but smirk on back at her as he reached for his ever faithful Tonitrus. Spinning it 'round his right hand he watched the woman's hidden face behind her white hat and darkened mask.

"So... if you're blocking the way to what's up there...," the Butcher murmured out as he advanced on with the similarly slow sauntering Choir Hunter. "Then what's up there must be precious indeed!" He finished as he widened his eyes in a sudden, toothy-smirked hiss. The Choir Hunter slashed at the air where he once stood and, as she seemingly expected, he had escaped her Threaded Cane's range.

He left behind a mad smirking after-image and her eyes darted around in search for him; her eyes soon widened however and she barely avoid the laughing Butcher's re-appeared and buffed Tonitrus, swinging across at the air where her face once was. The woman bent her body in a deft acrobatic spin to avoid the younger warrior's maddened swipe, seemingly scowling over at him as she spun. Offering her no time for repose however, the Byrgenwerth Butcher merely grinned lowly as he quickstepped very hastily, his movement like liquid itself. She shot her eyes in her right direction and they narrowed, recognising his tactics.

Yes, the Butcher thought as he licked at his lips hungrily.

I'm boxing you in.

That thought merely motivated him on and the youth's grin soon elevated into a loud chuckle; he pressed forward and, as expected, cornered the Choir Hunter. With a growingly maddened laugh and even almost psychotic twist of his face he re-appeared in her frontal view, smirking toothily and dementedly.

"Surprise!" The serial killer laughed.

The Choir Hunter wasted no time in her counter-attack; she merely leaned forward and sunk her left knee into his stomach. The Butcher's eyes widened, taken aback by her sudden call to action; he was sent staggering a single step back, offering her just enough room to follow up her strike. The seemingly experienced fighter finished her combo with a single spinning roundhouse kick, sending him spiralling across the air.

Quickly finding himself however, the Butcher grunted as he caught the ground with his remaining free left hand, side-flipping acrobatically in swift recovery. He couldn't help but chuckle however even as he did so.

I'm playing with my food, he thought to himself.

Can't be too confident now.

As if to further emphasise his silent ruminations the surprisingly fast Choir Hunter suddenly shifted to his undefended rear and, as she did, the Butcher's eyes widened. His eyes snapped to his far-right before suddenly narrowing as he spun around to face her in an effort-filled twisting slash attack.

CLINK

The Byrgenwerth Butcher could only gasp as he was sent a surprising distance back from his earlier counter-attack; his attack traded with the woman's and, in spite of it being a seemingly weaker weapon, the pair managed to cancel each other out.

Was it reinforced with Blood Gems?

Clever girl, he thought to himself.

"You're more resourceful than I imagined!" The Butcher called on over in his grin as he pulled himself up from his kneeling position. She watched him as silently as ever before reaching into her dress-like garb. "Especially for one of Choir." He half-insulted with a chuckling and knowing narrow of his eyes forward. His grin and similarly derisive chortle were soon both lost to him however when he watched her reach back to the ceiling with both arms.

I know what that is, he thought.

Book it!

With that thought driving him on the Butcher turned and ran toward the staircase, eyes widened; he gasped as he leapt forward behind the staircase just in time to avoid a stray strand of energy.

She's using 'a Call Beyond'?

How far have these hunters come?!

As if to act on her momentum, the narrow-eyed Choir Hunter re-appeared directly to his undefended right and, widening his eyes, the Butcher snapped his head in her direction as he lay his back across the hardwood of the staircase he hid behind. Time slowed down for the pair and he panicked as another headache began to gnaw at his mind; he leapt up and went for a telegraphed jump attack. The woman readied her left arm and shot her open sleeve and palm forward.

The Butcher couldn't even gasp, horror filling his body as he recognised the counter-attack.

No!

Numerous tentacles of Arcane strength suddenly shot out from her extended left arm and successfully struck the grunting Butcher, sending him down to his knees. He gasped as he watched her quickstep in to take him for an expected visceral attack.

SQUELCH

The youth roared out in pain as he was suddenly struck by her free right palm; she grunted for the first time in effort as she sent the youth spinning through the air painfully. The Byrgenwerth Butcher scrunched his eyes shut, his blood sailing on after him; in spite of his pounding migraine and his fresh injury however he widened his eyes and spun his body around mid-fly. Landing on the hard wall behind him he immediately stuck a blood vial into his lower leg before widening his eyes; in a mix of anger and growing impatience, the youth impetuously but powerfully vaulted himself off of the wall with a deft push of his body.

He shot towards the unprepared hunter with incredible speed.

Still recovering from her earlier visceral attack, her eyes widened; she could do very little except bend her body backwards in an attempt to evade the screaming young man's counter-attack

As he sailed across the air, the Butcher shot his crackling Tonitrus horizontally before aiming his Hunter's Pistol downward. Time slowed down for the pair and, as she watched him fly slowly across her, her eyes widened in alarm when she saw he targeted her leg.

BANG

The inevitable gunshot hit and she yelled in sudden pain as she buckled under the pressure, falling to her rear. The Butcher grunted as he rolled forwards in his landing, soon about-turning to blitz back the way he came; his eyes stayed widened in his bloody-eyed scowl and, this time, he shot his electric mace across his face, visibly buffing it with further lightning.

"Now you're finished!" The angry youth yelled out confidently and hatefully; he brought his Tonitrus skyward before swiftly narrowing his eyes down at her helpless form. Soon however he widened them one final time the blue electricity lighting up his scowling face. "Time to die!"

CLANG

His Tonitrus inevitably countered with the grunting woman's Threaded Cane, held diagonally and transformed to a blade-state.

"Rgh...!" The Butcher grunted out in half-effort, half-rage. His eyes soon narrowed hatefully down at the similarly tooth-grit scowling Choir Hunter below him. "Why... won't... you...," he murmured out, the sparks of his lightning and her steel flaring between them both. "Just PERISH?!"

RIP-SQUELCH

Along with his effort-filled roar, the young dreaming hunter finally broke his weapon through his hated enemy's and, as he did, he pierced her white dress with surprising strength. The mace he held easily penetrated the clothes she wore and the blood she coughed out silenced any other words she may have spoken otherwise. The Butcher finally allowed himself to gasp, wrenching his Tonitrus back out from her flesh; he re-straightened his standing position and scowled down at her disappearing body as he used his left arm to wipe at the blood trickling down his chin.

"Fucking Choir...," the youth muttered out crudely and hatefully, his eyes narrowed down at her failing form. Soon she disappeared completely and the young man turned his head-pounding eyes back up to the staircase she once guarded. "Damn headaches," he growled out as he walked forward, using his free left palm to grasp at the left side of his head. "When will you leave me?"

–

3

The Byrgenwerth Butcher put on a hard and firm frown as he appraised the impressive looking bookcase overlooking the lounging area that his previous opponent seemingly guarded. Pulling a strangely marked tome out from inside he narrowed his eyes down at it before opening it, only to find it bookmarked and underlined on a specific paragraph.

When the red moon hangs low, the line between men and beast is blurred. And when the Great Ones descend, a womb will be blessed with child.

"Hmph..." The Butcher merely grunted out as he scowled on down at the words. His eyes soon caught another underlined paragraph however and they narrowed once more down at it.

The spider hides all manner of rituals, certain to reveal nothing, for true enlightenment need not be shared.

A corner of his lip upturned into a smirk as he read that paragraph before he soon slammed the book shut with his right hand. He reached forward and placed it back into its proper place before soon about-turning and narrowing his eyes back at the Lunarium door.

If I am correct in my hypothesis, the Butcher thought.

"Then sensei Willem and his creation will be lurking behind there."

His thoughts spurred him on and, as he stuck the key he found earlier into the door before him, he narrowed his eyes as he pushed it apart.

Walking through, the youth frowned as he scanned his eyes across the area, only to find it as a lush lookout. The bright silvery moonlight lit up the area he stepped down into and, as his boots touched the firm concrete, the Butcher turned his eyes to his right, narrowed and all.

Sure enough there he sat in the rocking chair he remembered.

Master Provost Willem of the Byrgenwerth Lecture College.

The Butcher put on a low smile as he approached the older man. Much like the woman afore him he wore something across his eyes, like a mask, as if to guard his vision from something.

Dressed in the same regal white and blue robes he wore as head of the lecture college, he rocked away in his chair, as if completely unaware of the youth's presence.

"Sensei Willem...," the Butcher began as he smiled over at the older man. "Long time no see."

"Ah..." The previous building's headmaster managed to breathe out; he rocked and leaned forwards slowly in his chair, reaching the decorative staff he held in his hand ahead of himself. The Butcher traced his movement only to find him pointing directly toward the end of the lookout.

"So... your little creation lies over yonder, hm?" The Butcher murmured out as he turned his new thoughtful frown over to the moonlit lookout.

"R-Rom..."

The serial killer, his interest and curiosity piqued, immediately snapped his eyes back to face the man next to him.

"What did you just say?" He pressed him, eyes narrowed.

Rom?

The Butcher turned his eyes back to the lookout, narrowing.

I know that name, he thought.

Wasn't there a woman working at the college by that name?

"It would seem you have grown desperate indeed, sensei Willem...," the Butcher murmured out mid-thought process. "I had heard you had managed to halt the progress made by the School of Mensis...," he continued on as he stared on out at the moonlit landscape before him. Soon however he turned his newly gained smirk on the gasping old man next to him. "But to sacrifice a young woman in your employ to do it...?"

"Ah..." Willem murmured out, as if in response somehow.

"You truly are devious, sensei Willem...," he chuckled on, his body leaning to the side. "You are the only one I could not successfully fool...," the youth admitted in his confident smirk, shaking his head as if for emphatic effect. "You and that other rat of sensei Gehrman's." The youth muttered, this time in obvious distaste; a second young woman entered his thoughts and memories.

The pair shared a comfortable silence together as the Butcher quietly swivelled his head and his eyes to narrow at the lookout before him.

"You have achieved much in my absence... sensei Willem...," the Butcher complimented in his hard frown before soon turning back to face him once more. "Leave the rest to me," he hissed out this time in his narrow-eyed frown. "Eyes may be a stepping stone... but they are not the answer," he added on before turning back one final time to grin at the moonlit lookout. "Not for true evolution."

~

Even as he landed, the Butcher couldn't help but put on a light smile, raising his head to face forwards once more. He re-opened his eyes and found himself in a dream-like landscape.

"Moonside Lake... isn't it...?" He murmured as he turned his eyes across the bright background before him, smiling lightly.

Though his head pounded on he soldiered through the pain.

He opted not to ask himself of why they were still persisting.

Perhaps they would leave when he stopped focusing on them.

I just hope they don't interfere with my work, he thought to himself.

His eyes double-took when he caught the sight of a giant cylindrical spider crawling across the ground and his frown soon upturned slowly into a confident smirk. The Byrgenwerth Butcher kept the smirk warm on his face as he marched on forward, holding his Tonitrus back, ready to be used against his new and eventual opponent.

"It is time," he called over toward the heedless arachnid. His smirk was soon lost to him in favour of a hardened scowl. "The Moon Presence has sent me Rom...," the youth's voice echoed across the dreamscape around them. "Even as these blasted headaches persist, I will blanket Yharnam in further disarray and even further misery!" The young man claimed boldly, his eyes widening in his low speech.

His voice echoed loudly across the invisible walls of the area they both stood in before he re-opened his mouth to match his quietened tone of his voice and his slitting eyelids.

"For only through the Byrgenwerth Butcher...," he began again in his heated glare. "Can Yharnam truly be redeemed..."


	11. Resurrection; Hope Reborn

Chapter 11: Resurrection; Hope Reborn  
Third Descent of the Blood Moon Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Rom – The Vacuous Spider" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 1 (First Half) Scene 2 (First Half).  
"The Reluctant Heroes (Instrumental)"; Stewart's Theme – Attack on Titan OST. Scene 2 (Second Half).  
"Sacred Moon" - Kingdom Hearts II OST. Scene 3 (First & Second Halves).

\--

In his endeavour across Yharnam, the Byrgenwerth Butcher has done many things; he has evaded complete and total obliteration from the pursuing forces of the Healing Church and police officials, he has successfully managed to predict much of the workings and going ons of Yharnam and, finally, in spite of his many setbacks he has managed to put himself in the position of dreaming hunter of Yharnam.

Though he did not achieve all this alone he works alone, like a wolf in the cover of night, as a serial killer should.

As his memory recovers, he continues his course as the great Gehrman's next apprentice; the Butcher presses on to his old home-town of Byrgenwerth and reunites with an old face.

Master Provost Willem of the Byrgenwerth Lecture College.

Having learned of his creation and his sets sight on it, the Butcher opts to follow the trail and arrives at Moonside Lake.

Rom, the Vacuous Spider awaits the tone of his Tonitrus...

\--

Scene 1

The Butcher grunted, his scowl twitching from the pounding migraine he endured as he quickstepped to his left to avoid the small spiders' strikes.

There's too many of them, he thought to himself.

There must be some way I can separate them, he continued on in his mind.

His eyes soon caught the dematerialising form of the larger spider; his main victim and he growled out angrily as it did.

"Tch!" The youth managed out before angrily smashing his Tonitrus across one of the poor smaller spiders attempting to crawl towards him. His eyes narrowed when he quickly noted the damage he seemed to be doing when attacking their sides as opposed to their heads.

Strange.

Most creatures like these have a weakness in the head, not around it.

Seemed the opposite for these things.

With that thought driving him on, the Byrgenwerth Butcher widened his eyes as he bent his body backward; the sky began to turn ominously dark and he knew what was coming.

An Arcane attack.

Numerous ice-like stalactites came crashing down from the heavens above and he sprinted in a zig-zag formation to successfully evade all the meteors. With a gasp he rolled forward and narrowly avoided another small spider's headbutt attack.

Fucking insects, he thought to himself angrily.

He grunted as he issued the small spider a sweeping swing of his electric mace before swiftly swivelling around to face the staring Rom.

"Don't move...," he growled out in half-impatience, marching quickly towards the ancient arachnid. He buffed the lightning mace he carried, the sky-blue electricity lighting up his horribly scowling long-haired face. "Rom." The youth rumbled on out hatefully; he easily walked around to its undefended left side and widened his eyes as he swung his workshop weapon across the spider's body.

A strange kind of blood flew from it but it did not dissuade him in the least; he continued to swing away madly and roared with effort as he did so. When it finally spun around in dematerialisation however he growled and huffed with the effort, snapping his eyes around in search for the spider.

"No... you won't... use me for this!"

The Butcher gasped however as a fresh shimmer of pain shot through his head, forcing him down on his knees. He used his free left arm to grasp at his hat-wearing head, scrunching his eyes shut as he grunted in pain.

That voice, he thought.

So familiar.

It can't be?

"Get out of my body!"

The Butcher gasped a second time, falling down to his all fours, eyes widening this time. Sweat dropped down his forehead and he stared on down at the milky ground beneath him in a terrifying mixture of shock and horror.

This was impossible.

"Now!"

A sudden flash of incredible pain went with the words he listened to from his sub-conscious and he dropped his crackling Tonitrus to the ground with a noisy clang before grasping both sides of his head and cannoning his face skywards.

The youth screamed for all he was worth.

~

The Butcher gasped awake, his eyes widening.

Where am I, he thought.

His vision slowly unblurred and he managed to see, only to find himself caught in some kind of prison. His eyes narrowed forward at the iron bars before him and his frown slowly turned into a low scowl as he ran his left hand across one of the bars.

"What in the name of-?"

"You."

The Butcher blinked and snapped his eyes upward.

A reflection of himself stared back at him.

His body leant to the side in a hard-eyed stare, the youth merely glared back at him. He wore all the same gear he did; the Butcher could barely believe what he was watching.

"W-What's...?" He asked as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "What the hell is happening?"

"We're inside our mind." His reflection merely replied. The Butcher narrowed his eyes at the young man's voice and his accent.

It was common, foreign.

It was the only thing different between them.

"Our...?" The Butcher parroted, half-side of his face scrunching in a hateful, quizzical scowl. "What the hell are you-?"

"Like me or not Butcher," the reflection spoke over confidently, his own eyes narrowing forward. "I'm here to stay."

His impatience reached a plateau and the Butcher's growl soon escalated into an angered yell; he slammed the iron bars of his cage and scowled hatefully at the youth. "Who the fuck are you?!" He demanded.

"I'm you, Butcher," the reflection began with an introduction, eyes narrowing. "I'm Stewart Forbes."

"Wha-? But-?!" The Butcher could only manage out in a shocked stammer, shaking his head profusely as if to rid himself of the interruption. Soon however, his eyes slowly widened and his scowl gave way to realisation; a frown re-appeared on his face. "You...," he growled as he lowered his hands from the bars of his cell. "You were those fucking headaches..."

"Call me what you want," the newly re-introduced Stewart spoke over to him in a confident narrow of his eyes. "You might live inside me Butcher... but so do I."

The Byrgenwerth Butcher could only watch as the leaning, narrow-eyed reflection of himself glared back at him; his body began to dematerialise from the legs first and, as it finally took the rest of his glaring face, the Butcher's hateful scowl never left him.

–

2

Stewart's eyes widened; coming to a full waking position, the young man quickly realised his bad timing. He grasped the crackling Tonitrus laying at his feet on his right and stood up on his feet, searching for his new opponent.

Just as the Butcher had been doing before him.

He double-took when he found it lounging with its many small spider companions; Stewart's eyes narrowed and he nodded forward at the goal before him. The youth sped ahead and ducked his dome under the inevitable crashing Arcane meteors that Rom sent after him.

Time to finish the job he started, the young hunter thought to himself.

Even as he quickstepped forward past the numerous smaller spiders' strike attacks, he spun around as he did so in a sweeping slice; the electricity from his mace stunned the squeaking spiders and forced them from his position, allowing him further room.

With extra effort, Stewart made up for lost time by quickstepping forward and re-buffing the Tonitrus with lightning; he yelled with effort as he swung the mace across the spider's body. In a few lightning-coated strokes, the humongous arachnid eventually gave one final screech of pain, its body reaching up as if to the sky in its sheer agony. His eyes widened Stewart stared up at it and, before as he had half-expected, blood from it came pouring down from above coating him in it completely.

The smaller spiders around him soon gave out similar screeching and squeaking yells of pain as they all turned on their backs; signs of their defeat.

With a small smile growing on his face, Stewart's thoughts drove him on.

"Prey Slaughtered."

~

"The Byrgenwerth Butcher I may have been in my youth...," Stewart murmured forward as he slowly pulled himself up from his knelt position on the milky ground beneath him. "And he may still live in me...," the dreaming hunter continued on, his head held lowly. "But so do I."

He swiftly buffed the Tonitrus next to him; the bright blue lightning lit up his face and he snapped his head up amidst the many drips and droplets of blood that fell from the sky, pointing his crackling weapon upward with him.

"And I am Stewart Forbes!" He exclaimed, his voice echoing across the battlefield he once fought on. "Upon the fallen blood of Rom, the Vacuous Spider and my own... I make this pledge," Stewart began lowly as he narrowed his eyes forward, almost as if talking to the Butcher himself. "I will use its power of Blood Echoes to help my friends at Oedon Chapel and to do the one thing I set out to do in the first place when I woke up in doctor Iosefka's clinic."

His words echoed across the dream-like landscape before he re-widened his eyes and continued on.

"I alone will end Yharnam's ceaseless nightmare!" He exclaimed in full confidence, a hardened frown on his usually soft expression. "I will shoulder the weight of Yharnam's heavy burden, by myself! I will pierce my hopeful light through the thick, sombre clouds of darkness enveloping Yharnam!" Stewart declared passionately as he shot his crackling Tonitrus skyward, turning his eyes up with it.

He allowed himself to settle down soon however and sighed as he brought his quietened mace down with him, using his free left hand to rest on his chest. His eyes shut as he re-opened his mouth to speak, a softer tone of voice to his words.

"If my heart wasn't already hardened enough before my memory came back... it is now," he murmured out before soon re-opening his eyes in his frown before re-rising his face to match. "Butcher... you've managed to deceive and manipulate most of the people living in this city today... but I see you," he spoke as he stared forward; he could almost imagine the hateful reflection of himself staring back at him. "You and I are two sides of the same coin; I'm hardly one of reverence or even innocence... but I'm trying Butcher," he admitted as he frowned on softly forward. "If what I do helps this city and its people even by the smallest... then that's what I'll do," the youth continued on as he nodded on in his speech. "I was a bad person... I think it's time I changed that."

–

3

Wrenching himself free of his words, the newly re-appeared youth turned his frown on the bright landscape of Moonside Lake. Now standing suspiciously before him, a strange shaped woman in a bright white dress lay ahead of him; Stewart's thoughtful eyes narrowed past the long strands of his brown hair and his large hat.

Whoever that was, he thought, she wasn't human.

His thoughts were seemingly confirmed when he spied her strangely translucent and pale skin, punctuated boldly with blood across her dress at the front.

It looked like...

"A wedding dress...?" Stewart thought to himself aloud as he watched her, his ruminations racing to catch up with the events.

Who was she?

A baby's pained howl echoed throughout Moonside Lake and the youth winced when he traced the strange woman's eyesight.

Where was that coming from?

His silent questions were soon answered when he turned to his right only to find a huge blood-red sphere descend down upon him.

"What the-?" He could only breathe out, eyes widened; he took a step back as the sounds of the baby's crying began to amplify and worsen. It echoed loudly within his mind and he grunted, grabbing both sides of his head.

It did little to block the scathing sound from his ears however.

He opened his mouth in his scrunch-eyed shut scowl to scream alongside the deafening sound of the baby's howling.

But his voice was left to drown.

~

Ritual secret broken. Seek the nightmare newborn.

Stewart's eyes widened and he gasped, as if awaking from a terrible hallucination. When his vision returned to him he found himself in the very same small church he was sent to by Patches the Spider earlier in his adventure.

I must be in the Cathedral Ward, he thought to himself.

His eyes double-took the humongous form of the huge spider-like creature hanging on the wall before him. A veritable chill of fear ran up his spine when he saw it and he gulped down a load of saliva.

I can see it now he ruminated to himself.

But why...?

When he looked down he found himself on the strange iron pan he once passed so zealously, covered by lots of small candles in a seeming ritual.

What is happening?

"I need answers...," the youth murmured out when he narrowed his eyes forward; the two large steel doors that were previously bound and locked were now thrust open for him to engage with. He turned on his heel and left for another lamp to take him back to the Hunter's Dream. "I'll be back." The youth threw over his shoulder, disappearing into the night.

–

4

Stewart frowned as he stepped through the fog-ridden corridors of Byrgenwerth's Lecture Hall; having been here before he had previously theorised that he had hadn't received all the answers he was after.

And the locked Byrgenwerth Butcher would no doubt offer him none in the state he was in.

The well-meaning youth's firm frown twitched lightly as he experienced a sharp dose of a headache; he grunted in the light pain.

No doubt the Butcher knocking at his iron bars, he thought.

Just like he did to regain control.

I have to get answers as quickly as possible before the next time he takes control, he thought on as he marched through the darkened corridors.

Now.

Before he even noticed, Stewart found himself sauntering on the second floor of the abandoned college building. He pressed on, looking for any kind of open doorway, any kind of standout note. As if to finally answer his silent prayers however, he widened his eyes when he entered one of the many small hallways before him. Stepping through with narrowed eyes he soon found himself in one of the many experimentation rooms; he took out his lit Hunter's Torch and scanned the area.

He felt a presence in here.

"Who's there?!"

A voice now; Stewart's eyes widened.

Wasn't this place abandoned?

So who was that?

"Answer me!"

"U-Um, m-my name is Stewart!" The youth called on back, his eyes darting around in search for the man's refined Yharnam accent. "Wasn't this place abandoned?"

His words echoed across the fog-curled and cobweb infested walls of the experimentation room and Stewart found himself suddenly exposed.

What if this person were a killer?

As if to finally answer his silent worries however, an ebony dressed figure stepped into the light of his torch; a man. Dressed in the regal black and white of the student and lecturer body of the Byrgenwerth College he truly suit the background of the area. The nameless black haired man wore a uniform to match the Lecture Hall they both stood in and a simple black mortarboard atop his head. He carried numerous books under his arms and he frowned at the youth suspiciously.

He seemed all right...

"Yes...," the nameless man murmured out as he watched the young dreaming hunter thoughtfully. "It is abandoned...," he claimed before sighing as he briefly shut his eyes; he leaned in and frowned firmly as he extended his left hand forward. "Much like myself; my name is Armand, the abandoned."

"Armand...," Stewart murmured out attentively, nodding. "Stewart," he re-introduced in his attempt at a polite smile, nodding once more as he shook the man's hand. The newly established Armand merely frowned as he about turned and walked forward; the younger man followed him in a smile. "You said... 'abandoned'," the youth spoke up once more as he frowned forward however, raising a curious eyebrow as they approached a table. "What did you mean by that?"

"As the name implies... I suppose," Armand could only smile over his shoulder as he spoke; Stewart raised a curious eyebrow upward, indicating his curiosity. "When the Byrgenwerth Lecture Hall was taken adrift into the nightmare... I was brought with it."

Adrift into the nightmare?

Stewart's mind raced at the possibilities and, suddenly, answers he could never have found on his own managed to connect the dots for him. His eyes widened and he grasped the table before them, positively shocked.

"Of course!" He exclaimed, his passion running high. "So this place... it was ripped from Yharnam?" He asked his new companion and seeming ally, swivelling his arch-eyed eyebrow over to frown at him. Armand merely nodded in his own frown, still gripping his books.

"Stewart...," Armand began in his low frown, briefly shutting his eyes as he placed his books on the table before them. "I have many things to reveal to you but first...," he continued on before re-turning to open his eyes once more, facing the quizzical youth. "You will tell me of Yharnam."

~

"Ah... I see," the disappointed scholar frowned out as he turned his eyes back down to the hardwood oak table before them. The two had grabbed small chairs and shared a precious bottle of alcohol together in some bonding form. Stewart winced as he turned his long-haired head back to frown at the table similarly, Armand's chagrin radiating off of him. "So... Yharnam truly is finished," he added as he turned his half-closed eyes to his lower left in rumination. Stewart's own eyebrows lifted as he listened. "I should have known... I could do nothing to prevent-"

"No."

Armand blinked, his words interrupted; he swivelled in his small chair, eyes cloudy. Stewart stared back at him confidently, his hat-wearing head leaning to the side.

"I'm still here," the young hunter reminded the man. "Whatever the School of Mensis and the Choir are planning I'll stop 'em both."

"By yourself?" Armand hissed out as he leant forward, his eyes narrowing firmly. "You may be attached to the Hunter's Dream and to the Moon Presence but you're only one man Stewart!" He whispered out as if the pair were being listened to somehow in spite of the abandoned building.

"I don't care," the youth brazenly shot back, his own eyes narrowing in his words. "I've already saved five people in the Cathedral Ward," Stewart claimed; his mind returning to the rescued women and men he'd interacted with. "Besides... you said it yourself didn't you?" He reminded the older man, smiling at his shaggy black-haired head. Armand stared at him wordlessly, eyes narrowing in thought. "You believe in the prophecy... don't you?"

Armand's eyebrows lifted in recognition before, slowly dropping back down; his brow gradually furrowed to suit his new skeptical look. "Stewart I've been trapped here for a long time," the older man admitted in a shake of his head. "I could be willing to believe anything."

"I think you're just scared," Stewart replied softly, his own expression suiting the rest of his friendly tone. "I don't know about any prophecy of the old blood; the Butcher knows all about that stuff, but...," the youth continued in briefly, watching the table before him as if to ponder before he soon re-focused his eyes on his speaking partner. "But I know what I'm gonna do," he began once more, his tone harder to match his hard-eyed narrow. "All I want to do is make things better."

Armand could only stare at his younger companion in shock and surprise; he watched him for a good few seconds and Stewart managed a blink in response.

Is there something on my face, he thought.

"You are definitely a strange one," the shaggy black-haired man could only laugh as he shook his head briefly in his strange humour; Stewart raised a curious eyebrow upward. "Hrm... I have never done this for anyone else... but... no-one else has made it this far," the scholar claimed, this time in a hardened frown; Stewart's eyes narrowed quietly as he listened intently. Armand reached for his books and opened a specific one, pushing it over to the youth. "Read this." He requested, tapping a specific part of the now open page.

Stewart's eyes narrowed and he leaned over in his chair, reaching closer to read the underlined paragraph he seemingly intended.

The nameless moon presence beckoned by Laurence and his associates. Paleblood.

Stewart's eyes widened in response.

There was those names again – 'Laurence' and 'Paleblood'.

He turned in his chair to frown back at the similar faced Armand, the older man's left elbow resting across the table. He nodded gravely.

"There's something inside that dream of yours, commanding it; controlling it," he gave claim to in reply. "Something living inside that moon." The scholar spoke ominously. A chill ran up Stewart's spine as he listened; he attempted to find the words with which to respond.

"B-But why would the Healing Church's first vicar do such a thing? Wouldn't it just make Yharnam worse?"

"I believe Laurence was cornered at some point in time," Armand theorised in his hard-eyed frown. Stewart's own eyes widened as he listened, new information coming to light. "Something must have forced his hand, to turn to a nameless Great One."

A flash suddenly went off in Stewart's head; his eyes widened when a memory abruptly came to light.

The red moon hangs low, and beasts rule the streets. Are we left no other choice, than to burn it all to cinders?

Old Yharnam, he thought.

This makes complete sense.

"I'm not sure what it could have been...," Armand murmured out as he turned his eyes briefly on the book he pointed out earlier, eyes limpid and tone soft. "But I have some idea," he added as he re-raised his eyes to face his new companion's. "I once knew Laurence, Gehrman, Micolash, sensei Willem... everyone at Byrgenwerth Royal before this."

"So you know about the Healing Church? And his disagreement with Master Willem?" Stewart questioned very briefly, his own eyes narrowing.

"Yes," Armand nodded in reply, frowning firmly. "We here called it 'the Schism'," he spoke on, as if from memory. "Sir Laurence truly was a gifted and charismatic man."

"You didn't go with him?"

Armand blinked initially, as if in surprise before soon frowning and shaking his head softly in response.

"No... I agreed with sensei Willem," the scholar claimed truthfully. "We could all see the benefits and effects of using the Old Blood but... it was merely a shortcut," he stated honestly as he shook his head once more, his eyes lowering in presumable thought. "As you've revealed... we've all seen the effects of its use."

Stewart winced in silent agreement, nodding along with him as he thought of the many infected residents of Central Yharnam.

"You told me you saw a blood-red moon?"

Stewart blinked once more and re-raised his head to face the older man before soon nodding enthusiastically.

"Rom...," Armand sighed this time however, briefly shutting his eyes as if in remembrance. "I'm sorry old girl."

"Who was Rom?" Stewart frowned out. "And why did Master Willem-?"

"I'm not completely certain but my hypothesis is that he did it for a very good reason," Armand explained very briefly in his frown. Stewart raised a curious eyebrow, his answers finally coming to light. "You mentioned there are two groups, did you not? A strange Choir and a School of Mensis yes?"

"Y-Yeah," Stewart nodded, fragments of the Butcher's words returning to his memory. "Yeah I remember."

"I'd wager that sensei Willem was attempting to prevent a ritual that either one of these groups could possibly have been preparing," he claimed on in his speech. Stewart's eyes narrowed as he listened. "Sensei Willem may have cared too much about evolution, but... I believe he cared about Yharnam also."

It would add up with what I read back in the Cathedral Ward, Stewart thought to himself.

The Byrgenwerth spider hides all manner of rituals, and keeps our lost master from us. A terrible shame. It makes my head shudder uncontrollably.

"And now... you have broken that seal," Armand sighed out as he shook his head disapprovingly, eyes shutting briefly as he did so. Stewart couldn't help but wince very softly in response, as if being told off somehow. "Things may be going just as they plan..."

"I'm sorry; maybe I shouldn't have..."

"It had to be done, I think," the black-haired scholar interrupted very firmly in his hard-eyed frown; Stewart's own eyebrows lifted, a sense of hope returning to his own face. "I can see why sensei Willem did what he did... but if all we do is halt progress... we make none of our own."

Armand was right, he thought.

A smile slowly returned to his face.

"We need a plan," the Byrgenwerth scholar frowned out as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "They may not realise you know anything about them... we must use this to our advantage."

Stewart nodded, a hard frown on his own face.

I hate these theoretical discussions, he thought to himself.

This was where the Butcher thrived, not me.

"You told me you encountered a message within your mind when you re-awoke, yes?"

Stewart's eyebrows lifted in sudden surprise and recognition, his memory replaying the words echoed back to him.

Ritual secret broken. Seek the nightmare newborn.

"Y-Yeah, I remember," the youth nodded in his frown. "What about it?"

"This would suggest to me that the presence demands a certain amount of blood or, Blood Echoes as you would call them, and a specific job." Armand theorised in his firm frown.

"B-But what basis are we judging this on?"

"What about your two friends you mentioned?" The older robed man asked, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head at the youth. "Sir Djura and lady Eileen, yes?"

Stewart's eyes widened for the umpteenth time when he thought of the former dreamers.

"I think I see where you're going with this..." He murmured out, his own eyes soon narrowing in slow thought.

Djura and Old Yharnam were connected – with what he told him he and his unit of the 'Powder Kegs' were ordered to burn the place down.

Eileen, hunter of hunters, perhaps had a job in killing a berserk fighter, either of the Church or not.

They were both in the position I'm in, he thought.

And both seemingly succeeded, only to become waking hunters of Yharnam.

"If you follow in their footsteps...," Armand began theorising in his hard-eyed frown. "Then you will change nothing."

Stewart's eyes lowered in hard thought, his optimism slowly draining from his face.

What hope had there been in their adventures?

How will mine be any different?

"Yours will be the third," Armand claimed in his hard-eyed frown. "How you deal with it... will be up to you."

"I need... something to work with, something to make sure things don't go the same way-"

As if to softly interrupt the youth mid-speech, Armand reached into his garb for a single, small folded note. He frowned firmly back at him as he fingered the note with his index and forefingers, firm and all. Stewart's eyes widened in surprise, soon falling silent. Wordlessly, Armand frowned as he stuck the note down upon the table they rested at before slowly pushing it across with both fingers. Stewart eyed it hungrily before reaching over and unfolding it.

Three third cords.

Stewart's eyes widened in slow recognition. He turned his head back over to face the curious-expressed Armand and received an unsure look in response.

"I'm not entirely sure what it me-? What is it...?" He asked, narrowing his eyes forward.

The young dreaming hunter reached into his clothes and, carefully, pulled out the umbilical cord he had retrieved from the abandoned old workshop. Still sitting dry in its rag of red, the ebony-black piece of flesh was given a full showing; Armand's eyes widened and he could only stare down at it.

"Of course," he breathed, as if unwilling to believe the sight before his eyes. "But that's impossible! How?!"

"In an old workshop just like the Hunter's Dream," he explained very briefly in his hard-eyed frown before soon re-pocketing the valuable. "I've got some idea of what it is but..."

"That writing on that note... is Laurence's; I know his handwriting," Armand interrupted very briefly and softly, frowning forward in his nod. "I believe now he was researching those."

"So... these are the key?"

"Precisely," Armand nodded in his hard-eyed frown. "Laurence and his Healing Church used the Old Blood to evolve and failed...," he began in his frown. "Sensei Willem tried to focus on expanding his very eyes in order to get closer to the Great Ones... but where they have both failed, you will succeed."

"W-What are you trying to tell me? That I'm stronger or smarter than them both?"

Armand could only let through a low grin on his expression. "No, Stewart...," he chuckled knowingly as he shook his head in response. "I'm trying to tell you that, when you're ready... you won't have to be."


	12. Reconnaisance

Chapter 12: Reconnaissance; to Hemwick and Back  
Third Descent of the Blood Moon Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.

\--

In his bloody duel with the Kin, Rom, the Vacuous Spider, the Byrgenwerth Butcher's migraines become too much for him to handle and it is soon revealed that the personality he once woke up with in the beginning of his adventure finally regains control of their shared union.

A strange young man, especially for a hunter, Stewart Forbes is a mirrored reflection of the Byrgenwerth Butcher and yet the absolute opposite in ethics. The two form a strange and very uneasy kind of partnership in their position as dreaming hunter of Yharnam; with the Butcher's ruthless strength and Stewart's charisma their combined potential, though stifled by their bad blood, is endless.

Previously in his adventure, Stewart revisited the adrift Byrgenwerth Lecture Hall only to find and introduce himself to a second resident living inside; a tired scholar by the name of Armand, the Abandoned. Together the two managed to share their findings and, in them, Stewart discovered many chilling things about Yharnam; with Armand's knowledge and a new friend made under his belt, the youth takes his leave of the Byrgenwerth Lecture Hall, opting to continue his quest.

He makes his final preparations, opting to go see his surviving companions in the Cathedral Ward's Oedon Chapel one last time before setting out...

\--

Scene 1

"Ahh, the hunter! Alive and well, at that!"

Stewart blinked as he re-focused his eyes to the light the candles offered in Oedon Chapel; he swivelled his body around before smiling over warmly at the little red-clothed man. He walked on over to the similarly smiling little man, offering a friendly wave as he did so.

"Hi Noah." The youth greeted, briefly shutting his eyes as he did so.

"This place is a haven now, for so many. Thanks to you. I'm... overjoyed! Really...," the little man smiled out as he turned his eyes up to the curious-faced Stewart. "That you'd give me the time of day!"

"Oh come on," Stewart couldn't help but laugh in response, rubbing the back of his fedora hat-wearing head nervously. "You make me sound so noble."

"But you are mister hunter!" The little chapel dweller smiled back widely in response, as if ready for his replies. "So many owe you so much here," he claimed; the pair turned their eyes over to the sitting group of survivors around the chapel before re-turning to face one another. "Amazing really," Noah claimed before re-facing the youth in his approachable smile. "Not 'cause you're a hunter but... because you're... you!" He claimed in yet another compliment to the embarrassed youth.

If only he knew, Stewart thought to himself.

If only they all knew who I really was.

"Makes me think..."

Noah's words made the young man wrench himself out of his own negative thoughts; he turned again to face the little man and listened.

"Once dawn breaks, maybe I can just, you know, start over," he suggested as he lowered his eyes in presumable thought. "Makes it easier t'bear all of this, y'see?" He chuckled on well-naturedly before nodding forward once more, grateful and all. "You've made life easier; thank you."

"You're far too kind," Stewart chuckled out as he knelt down on the small man's level, rubbing the back of his head; a show of his old habits. "If it wasn't for you and this-"

"U-Um, mister hunter..."

Noah's sudden interruption made Stewart stop mid-sentence; he raised a curious eyebrow and put on a curious frown as he listened intently.

"When the night of the hunt passes...," he asked, his eyes lowered and not facing the youth; Stewart could only stare back in quiet curiosity. "S'pose... we could be friends...?"

His strange question made the young man stare back, shocked.

"Now, I know, I hardly deserve it, but... well, I just had to just, ask, y'know?" Noah managed out in a nervous chuckle.

"What are you talking about Noah?" Stewart murmured back, blinking back at him quizzically. The chapel dweller tilted his head back at him, unsure. "We're already friends." He smiled to end his words. Noah could only watch him for a good second or two before a slow smile developed on his face and he nodded gratefully.

"Thank you mister hunter; oh thank you!" He laughed out as he reached forward with his long hands; grasping the chuckling Stewart's with his fingers in a grateful handshake the pair shared their warmth together. "You've made me the happiest man in Yharnam!"

His words, though spoken earnestly and honestly, couldn't help but bring the youth's spirits down.

If he knew I was the Byrgenwerth Butcher, he thought to himself.

I doubt he'd be so friendly.

"Oh!" Noah gasped out, a new frown adorned on his face; Stewart raised a curious eyebrow upward. "It's been a long time since you've last been 'ere mister hunter; that lady you sent, she kept askin' me about ya!"

"Lady...?" Stewart murmured out in a quizzical blink.

Could be any one of the three.

"Yeah, the friendly one!" He smiled as he nodded over in the blonde woman's direction; Stewart traced it only to find the sitting Arianna. She was bent over in a seemingly pained state; his eyes narrowed at her, his concern growing. "She's been a little under the weather."

"I see," the youth murmured out thoughtfully before turning back down to smile at his new companion; the dweller nodded back. "Thanks; I better go check on her."

With that, the youth gave his friend a light salute before re-standing and walking on over to the blonde woman before him.

He didn't expect his reunion with her to be like this.

Even as he approached, his shoes clicking loudly against the well designed floor of the Oedon Chapel, she gasped as she turned upward to get a look at the youth.

"There you are..." She gasped out, seemingly sweating of all things; Stewart stared down at her, surprised.

She reached forward with one of her hands, wrenching it from her low stomach. He almost flinched at how firm her grip was, having remembered it being so soft. She pulled him forward through his free right gloved hand and he watched her, his mind racing at possible conclusions for her illness.

"Where have you been?" The blonde woman breathed up at him huskily, a look of pure effort etched on her expression. Stewart couldn't help but wince, bending down on one knee to join her at her seat. "I needed you."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't realise," the dreaming hunter could only manage out in his unsure head-shake, guilt ripping at his system. "W-What's wrong? Can I help?"

"I... I don't know," the older woman groaned in effort, lowering her head; Stewart felt her soft fingers clench roughly in his and he winced. "There's something wrong with me..." Arianna managed out mid-breaths. Stewart's mind quickly went to a pair of medicinal supplies he had that he was saving; using the hand she wasn't grasping he went into his hunter's garb as quick as he could and pulled out two small bottles. He narrowed his eyes at both of them.

Sedatives that he picked up at Byrgenwerth and similarly liquid medicine, blue in colour.

Blue elixir as it stated on the bottle.

One calmed the nerves and another seemingly numbed the brain.

Maybe she should take both, he thought.

"H-Here." He smiled as he slowly hovered the two bottles over to her. She shot her head up and narrowed her eyes at them both hungrily before soon double-checking with him; he nodded in his smiling expression, inviting her to take them. She wrenched her left hand from his right and immediately yanked the pair of bottles from him before soon dumping the pair of liquid bottles' contents down her throat.

He winced at her sudden movements.

Hardly the soft and demure Arianna he remembered.

Her gasping eventually settled and, though she shook in conjunction with her ragged breaths, she soon straightened her stature and smiled in suggestion with it.

"Thank you dear...," Arianna managed out in a low chuckle, smiling up at him; she reached forward with her free left hand and entwined her fingers with his. This time, instead of the harsh grip she gave him, he felt her soft fingers brush with his and he couldn't help but blush when they did. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be rude..."

"It's... fine; I don't mind," Stewart smiled up at her, his honesty backed by the niggling guilt in the back of his conscious. "I'm sorry that I... wasn't here." He apologised, this time with a remorseful frown, lowering his eyes from hers.

"Please don't let it trouble you darling," Arianna chuckled, shaking her blonde-haired head at him in response. "I'm just glad you came." She admitted in her smile; he felt her fingers gently squeeze his and he couldn't help but feel warm in response. He tried to find the words with which to reply however, when he did, his eyes double-took on his right when he found something move.

What was-?

A young woman leant forward from her position on the chapel's top right.

Who was that?

He soon recognised her black clothes and similarly ebony hair; the young woman he managed to rescue from Yahar'gul.

Adella, blood-nun of the Healing Church.

When she caught him watching her back she very quickly leant back, as if being caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Strange...

He suddenly realised he was kneeling bent over in a suggestive position toward the sitting Arianna, his right hand in hers.

He must have looked like he was asking her hand in marriage.

"What, what's wrong?"

Her question brought him crashing back to reality and he cleared his throat awkwardly as he stood himself back up to his feet.

"N-Nothing," he chuckled, using his now free right hand to rub the back of his head. "Are you sure you're feeling better?" The youth asked her, frowning as he tilted his head down at her.

"Quite a bit dear; thank you," she smiled on up at him gratefully as she nodded, tilting her own head at him. "It's been rather lonely here; I missed you."

"I-I missed you too...," he managed out in response, stammering his words out shakily; he refused to face her, unable to stop the reddish hue from tinting his cheeks. "I'm sorry I've been so busy."

Am I really telling her this, he thought.

"It's quite all right dear; I know you're a big strong hunter," she complimented in a jokey tone, smiling up at him. Stewart couldn't help chuckle in a light smile of his own, turning his eyes back to face hers. "All I can do to thank you... is to give you this," the older woman claimed as she pulled out another small vial of blood with a soft cloth over it. His eyes narrowed down at it, recognising it immediately. "Unless of course you'd rather not want it."

"N-No of course I would." He nodded in a grateful smile before reaching over with his left gloved hand. She stretched her own hand forward to pass the vial over and simpered at him similarly; even as she slid the vial through his fingers, he found her hand lingering in his once more.

There was definitely an atmosphere.

Surely she's interested?

If she only knew who I really was, he thought to himself.

That single guilt-ridden thought nibbled at his consciousness enough for him to drop his fingers from hers entirely; she seemed to notice his pull and put on a curious frown to her expression to match the quizzical look in her eye.

Maybe I should just leave, he thought to himself.

"Thank you... so much, lady Arianna," Stewart smiled as he bowed respectfully, taught well by his old mentor. The blonde woman could only stare back at him, tilting her head curiously. "I can only hope to be worthy of it." He said sadly, giving her one final smile before soon turning forward to leave. Though he passed her, his smile faded and he intentionally ignored her sudden call for him to wait.

I'm sorry, he thought.

I can't let you know who I am.

~

Stewart grunted, his head throbbing as he made the final ascent to the top of the ladder he climbed.

That must be the Butcher, he thought; knocking at his cell to get in.

"Just hold him off as long as you can."

He let his burning ruminations drive him on and, as he turned to scan his surroundings, he narrowed his eyes.

I recognise this place, he thought.

Central Yharnam?

"But that's..." He trailed on thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing once more as he watched the many graves littered 'roundabout.

Incredible how twists and turns in the Forbidden Woods can lead here but...

Why through here?

He let his searing speculation campaign him on; as he opened the shortcut and pressed on he soon found himself fighting past a Brainsucker and ending up on a roof.

When he saw the doorway a few yards away from his position he suddenly knew where he was and he couldn't help his eyes from widening. His brow furrowed as he slowly entered, his hand on the small sword half of his Holy Blade.

Iosefka's Clinic.

Last he remembered she had been absent from her trusty door, seemingly replaced by another person entirely.

It may have been subtle, he thought, but I know what the doctor sounds like.

As the youth pushed down the hard headaches throbbing at his consciousness he pressed on, making a turn to his right. Stepping through the winding corridor he soon found himself at another pair of familiar glassed double-doors. Pushing them apart he frowned as he entered the clinic's rear entrance.

His familiarity with the area surprised him; he immediately recognised the experimentation room as the one he woke up in.

Feeling strangely nostalgic, Stewart stepped forward and walked quietly up to the bed he once woke up in, frowning. His eyes narrowed however when he caught a shining letter lying on the stretcher.

What the-?

Pawing it up he furrowed his brow down at it quizzically only to notice his very name resting on the handwritten front of the letter.

Mr. Stewart Forbes

What in the name?

Could this be a trick?

But by who?

He barely saw the Cainhurst Seal on the back of the letter before movement to his top right made him double-take upwards; he narrowed his eyes forward only to find a strange humanoid-like being standing not far from his position.

Who-?

Too many questions flitted around his head and, as he stepped slowly forward to regard the alien-like creature he narrowed his eyes down at it.

"Doctor Iosefka... is that you?"

His words, though spoken softly and quietly, seemed to carry much weight to them in the dark and musty operation room; the creature very slowly about-turned, almost deliberately to face him.

He had no proof to back his claims but there she stood before him.

The once human doctor Iosefka.

A sudden huge weight of sadness and guilt crashed down upon him as he watched her slowly shamble toward him, her mind eroded seemingly from experimentation. He couldn't even find himself to back up from her obvious hostile intentions.

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped out as he watched her approach; he tried to stop the tears stinging at his eyes as he continued. "This is... all my fault..."

If the little blue-shaded creature was listening it gave no inclination; it merely shambled on towards him, raising up its clawed-like arms to attack with. His mind soon returned to normal and, pushing down his grief, Stewart scrunched his eyes shut in a tooth-grit scowl, raising his sword upward.

His grief never left him; not even when the creature dropped to the ground in peaceful silence.

–

2

Stewart ascended the last staircase he came across and his eyes narrowed roughly as he did so.

This must be it.

His thoughts pressed him on and, as he passed on slowly into the next room, he scanned the area quickly for any traps or surprises.

Seemed safe.

The dreaming hunter glared forward, his emotions recollected; he stepped forward and, as the darkness of the room began to settle to adjust to his eyesight, his eyes double-took the sight before him.

A young woman resembling the person he just mercy killed lay on a stretcher on all fours, shaking terribly.

"You..." He muttered out in a low growl; he stepped forward, his grip on his sword's hilt tightening in readying.

"God, I'm nauseous...," she gasped out suggestively, her right gloved hand laying on the stretcher bed while her free left gripped her head. "Have you felt this?"

Her sudden greeting made him stop just as he approached her, surprised.

"It's progressing," she chuckled out, almost as if in knowing somehow. "I can see things."

"What are you-?"

"I knew it, I'm different. I'm no beast... I...," the imposter trailed off in a low throaty laugh. "Oh... god it feels awful... but, it proves I'm chosen..." She managed out in a husky laugh.

Stewart stared back at her wordlessly, glaring.

"D-Don't you see...?" She gasped on out. "How they writhe, writhe inside my head. It's... rather... rapturous."

Her moaning voice trailed off into strange, psychotic-like laughter and though he had barely any idea what she was even talking about, Stewart had little to no sympathy for her.

He glared on down at her and pulled back his sword, eyes narrowing.

~

The youth's eyes darted across the landscape around him.

As he had gleaned from the summons left for him in Iosefka's Clinic, Stewart made a left from the Grand Cathedral in the Cathedral Ward, only to find himself traipsing past the Riflemen's Woods. Pressing on through there, he soon found himself wandering into unknown territory.

Hemwick Charnel Lane.

Having just disposed of the slippery Witches of Hemwick, Stewart used his Hunter's Torch light up the darkened corridor he stepped through. Stony and dusty, he made sure not to touch anything he didn't have to, his eyes narrowing as he descended slowly down the set of stairs before him. Ahead lay a hardwood door with a single window dotted with three bars; two vertical and one horizontal.

It looked like a dungeon door.

Stewart manually stopped the chill from running down his spine and opened up the door with a loud, echoing creak. He used the torch he carried to light the area up, scanning his eyes around the area. His eyes soon double-took however and widened when he caught the spill of light from the ceiling dropping down on the chair before him.

A corpse, dressed much like himself, lay in the seat ahead.

Stewart's brow furrowed in a mixture of shock and fear.

What the hell was going on in here?

He turned his head upwards to find the red-shaded light as the moonlight itself and when he re-turned his vision back down to watch the nameless hunter's corpse, he slowly added it up.

Could they have been experimenting with moonlight somehow?

"For once you are correct."

Stewart gasped, wrenching his eyes up in surprise at the voice's interruption.

Who-?

"Do not fear, little Stewart... it only I," the voice continued on in a suggestive chuckle. "The Byrgenwerth Butcher."

The young man's eyes narrowed at the wall ahead of him, almost as if the named serial killer lay before him.

He briefly forgot about the Butcher.

"What do you mean I'm correct?"

"What do you think happened here, little Stewart?" The Butcher's voice echoed throughout his mind; the dreaming hunter turned his eyes back down to watch the deceased fighter in the chair, seemingly tortured. "The moonlight, the torture... it all points to one thing."

"The Moon Presence..." He muttered out in response, tilting his body back up; a knowing chill ran up his spine this time.

"Precisely...," the Butcher's voice chuckled knowingly. "Very good... you're not completely hopeless it would seem."

"But... why would they experiment with moonlight?" Stewart attempted to reason with his uneasy hanger-on, eyes narrowing in thought. "Were they trying to contact the Presence?"

"Come now," the Butcher laughed, his voice echoing within the youth's consciousness. "I cannot just hand you all the answers I so painstakingly researched..."

"Tch..." Stewart tutted out, a mixture of impatience and anger at the wiser hunter's words.

He's right, Stewart thought to himself.

I have to rely on myself.

–

3

Having cleared the majority of Hemwick Charnel Lane of its prowling creatures and hostile warriors, Stewart left the Hemwick Witches' den to search for the horse and carriage said to be waiting for him. His eyes narrowed as he stepped across the howling wind, still alert and ready for combat. Stepping towards the strangely large and tall headstone before him his brow furrowed at the fog-encased landscape before him.

Strange, he thought.

Something's coming.

But wasn't that area a dead-end?

So then, how...?

In spite of his conflicting thoughts, a duo of two horses and a carriage appeared in the distance, lightly trotting out of the fog they marched through. Stewart's eyes widened and, despite all rational thought, there it was. His eyes widened when he witnessed the carriage come to a slow stop just short of his legs; still in a shocked stance, he could only stare as the carriage door very slowly and ominously creaked open before him. Fog curled out from inside it and, spying in, he found the interior lavish and well decorated.

What the hell?

Stewart brought up the opened letter of Cainhurst in his free right hand, narrowing his eyes down at it as if for confirmation of some kind; re-turning his eyes upward he re-affixed a serious expression on his face before setting forward to board the carriage.

This could be an answer to another question, he thought to himself.

Stepping up onto the footrests offered to him, he bent his hat-wearing head low to enter and narrowed his eyes around the carriage.

Seemed empty.

Taking a seat to his right, he placed himself down very carefully and quietly. As if reacting to his presence, the carriage door suddenly slammed shut and Stewart cringed, jumping lightly in his seat.

I hate this place, he thought.

~

The carriage rocked noisily and Stewart winced in his seat; though the seat itself was nice and lavish, he found himself holding onto it for support and balance. He turned his eyes up out into the window offered to him and soon widened his eyes at the sight ahead.

Snow dropped heavily, a storm of some kind in full effect.

Ahead he spied a castle.

Could that be Cainhurst?

The carriage suddenly came to an abrupt stop and Stewart's eyes widened in surprise, gasping as he did so. Unwilling to move in fear of the carriage for moving again, the youth's eyes darted around the inside of his wooden prison before, eventually and slowly, standing back up. Leaning forward to open the carriage door, he stepped down through the footrests before him and finally tasted solid ground for the first time in what felt like ages. Standing up straight and re-rising his head upward to scan above him he soon found himself in the middle of the snow-storm, his eyes widening at the huge castle before him.

Castle Cainhurst.

"Th-Thanks for taking me here-"

Stewart's smiling words of grateful gratification were cut short; when he about-turned to thank the driver of the carriage behind him, his eyes widened yet another time in shock and bewilderment.

A third chill ran up his spine in growing fear.

The carriage itself was gone, replaced only by fallen lumber and the duo of horses that took him here lay on the ground, similarly deceased. Their corpses looked weeks old, seemingly beginning the decomposition process.

But that's impossible, he thought, his brow furrowing in a mixture of bewilderment and dread.

He wished the Butcher would say something, anything to placate his anxiety-filled mind.

Pushing his jitters down with a hard-eyes frown, Stewart finally swivelled his body back 'round to face the looming sight of Cainhurst Castle before him.

Words of Alfred's advice and information from much earlier in his adventure echoed throughout his mind before he, finally, took his first marching step into the fortress.


	13. Infiltration; of the vapid Vilebloods

Chapter 13: Infiltration; of the vapid Vilebloods  
Third Descent of the Blood Moon Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Martyr Logarius" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 3.

-

In his search for information, Stewart has taken to investigating the mysterious Hemwick Charnel Lane following a strange letter addressed to him in doctor Iosefka's Clinic. Once there, he discovers many chilling and even horrifying sights; a hunter, much like himself, tied to a chair and seemingly tortured. The blood-red moonlight shone down on the nameless hunter's corpse eliciting the watching Stewart and quiet Butcher to finally collaborate on information, even if one-sided.

They come to the conclusion that the corpse was tortured but with a strange purpose; it would appear the Hemwick Witches were attempting to contact the nameless Great One commanding the Hunter's Dream, the very background that Stewart himself is attached to.

But why?

Stewart's questions remain unanswered and, as he finally makes progress with his adventure, he obeys the letter he received in Iosefka's Clinic. Finding himself in a carriage of horses seemingly driven and commanded by no-one, the youth exits into a snow-storm covered castle; Castle Cainhurst. Utilising the information his companion Alfred gave him of the Vilebloods and of Cainhurst itself, Stewart opts to press on in search of answers...

-

Scene 1

Twirling the smaller sword normally attached to Ludwig's Holy Blade on his back, Stewart's eyes narrowed as he slashed it across one of the many Bloodsucking Beasts. He spun around its screeching carcass, blood from its chunky belly sailing into the cold, night air; Stewart's eyes narrowed past the droplets of descending blood before soon wandering his gaze to the strangely silvery moonlit sky.

In spite of his efforts earlier the moon as far as Cainhurst, it would appear, had not coincided with Yharnam's.

Strange, he thought.

Turning on his heel to glare his eyes forward at the rest of the snow-infested path ahead the young hunter soon found himself staring at just a small part of the magnificently humongous sized castle of Cainhurst.

If I remember, correctly, he thought to himself.

Cainhurst is ruled only by its lone queen.

"Time to see what you want with me." The youth finished his pondering words in a low murmur; his voice gave vent to the very light exhale of white visible breath, the cold air smoking his respiration for all to see.

As he approached the huge double-doors of Cainhurst Castle, Stewart's eyes stayed slit-narrowed; they darted around as the one door on the left slowly creaked to life before him.

Ominous, he thought.

Like something from a horror novel.

Pushing those thoughts deftly from his mind he pressed forward and immediately found himself confronted with heat.

Strange; where did that come from?

His thoughts were interrupted in tandem; once by the similarly odd presence of mass-lit candles around the lavish castle foyer and secondly by strange movement at the corner of his eye.

Someone else was in here.

CLANG

In a flash the hard-faced youth clashed his transformed great-sword with his enemy's weapon. His eyes narrowed in quick recognition of the steel hammer he was engaged with.

A Kirkhammer?

Though the grip on their weapons stayed tightened, the two hunters relaxed their stances as they turned to view their enemy.

Stewart couldn't help but laugh when he saw the wide-eyed, shaggy blonde-haired Alfred staring back at him, clearly shocked and all.

"S-Stewart...?" The church hunter gasped out in thinly veiled bewilderment. The named youth in response merely smiled, his grip on his great-sword relaxing very quickly; he pulled his large weapon back and let it hang on his back safely. The shock-expressed Alfred could only stare back as he pulled back his huge hammer. "I... must say; it is a surprise to see you here..."

"I could very well say the same," Stewart chuckled amicably in his similarly friendly smile; he folded his arms and cocked a grin at the older young man before him. "From what I remember you telling me you weren't a big fan of this place."

"Ah-ha-ha!" Alfred could only laugh in response as he similarly pulled his Kirkhammer back to rest on his rear position, similarly to his comrade and companion. "Yes, I despise those disgusting Vilebloods...," he hissed out contrastingly with a low scowl, his eyes narrowing. "But I'm here for another reason."

"Y-Yeah?" Stewart smiled out in an awkward blink, unused to his hostility.

"I wished to see the resting place of my mentor... the great Master Logarius!" The newly smiling Alfred explained grandly as he placed his well-toned arms to his sides. Stewart's eyebrows lifted in recognition, his memories of speaking to the venerable man returning to him.

He vaguely recalled him make mention of a man by the name of 'Logarius'.

'Logarius' was here?

"More ya know." Stewart could only chuckle as he tilted his head very lightly in response, visibly surprised.

"Why are you here, sir Stewart?" Alfred asked as he furrowed his brow forward at the younger youth, curious-faced and all.

"I was... sent a letter from here, believe it or not," the dreaming hunter chuckled amiably as he rubbed the back of his head; an old habit. "And I'm not entirely sure by who."

"Hrm... I believe I have an idea from whom," the church hunter growled out lowly as he turned his eyes to the staircase next to them; Stewart traced his gaze with a curious-faced blink, unsure. "Damn Vilebloods..."

He really doesn't like these people, Stewart thought to himself.

Maybe I shouldn't confront him about it, he pondered onwards.

"Well, what say you then?"

"H-Huh?" He stammered, surprised by Alfred's sudden question. The church-affiliated hunter chuckled and nodded his head toward the youth.

"What say we combine our forces together?" The man suggested amicably. "We both have our goal in exploring this place after all."

Oh he wanted to co-operate?

All's said and done Alfred really was a nice man.

And yet...

In spite of how he often felt around the man, he couldn't help but sense an off sensation about him, specifically whenever he talked about the 'Vilebloods'.

Whoever they were.

Stifle it down, he thought.

"You have a friend that's willing to help," he nodded in his hard-frowning contemplation. "That's more than enough information that I need."

"So, what say you then friend? Do I pass your test?" Alfred humorously shot out with, a light grin adorned on his face as he did so. Realising he hadn't spoken in perhaps a short while, Stewart threw in a laughing smile of his own, rubbing the back of his head as he did.

"Of course," the dreaming hunter nodded in jolly assenting before reaching forward with his free left hand, presumably to be shaken. "You and me; let's do this!"

Alfred reached forward and took the younger youth's hand in his with his grin, similarly nodding. "Yes! Let's enact some jolly co-operation!"

~

His mood lifted by his new companion Stewart couldn't help but smile, even very lightly, as the pair turned a corner from the foyer, stepping into the first hallway together. His eyes lit up when he noticed a dead cadaver lying in the centre of the large room; separated by two opposite and similarly large tables to both sides, Stewart made movement to approach the cadaver and check its contents.

However, the narrow-eyed and suspicious-faced Alfred shook his head vehemently, grasping at the gasping youth's cape-less hunter's garb he wore. Stewart turned his long-haired head to frown back at the firm-faced veteran.

"W-What is it?"

"Cainhurst is a plague my friend," the church-affiliated hunter claimed boldly as he took a step forward; walking just a single stride further than his companion he glared on ahead. "Watch this..."

At his words, he reached into his robe-like garments and procured a single item; Stewart's eyes narrowed down at it.

A pebble?

What was he going to do with-?

Without another word, Alfred gave vent to a single grunt before reaching back and tossing the pebble forward with surprising strength. A number of event-less seconds passed between the listening and silently watching pair; when the pebble finally hit the ground next to the dead corpse, nothing else seemed to happen. Stewart could only watch and turned to face his friend, unsure on his motivations.

"What did you hope would h-?"

SCREECH

Stewart's eyes widened and he nearly jumped out of skin; the youth's head snapped 'round to find the strangely translucent forms of dull, white ghosts.

Literal ghosts.

Shaped as women wearing dresses, with suggestive cuts across their necks and bodies, they let loose angry-filled shrieks as they slashed at the air where Alfred threw his pebble, almost as if summoned by it. When they seemed to realise the pebble was but a ruse, the three dead women turned their heads very slowly and deliberately to glare over at the smirking-faced Alfred and the shock-expressed Stewart.

"You knew?" Stewart could only gasp out as he traded glares with the now slow approaching spectres.

"Of course I did," Alfred chuckled in response, his confident grin widening; he nodded over towards the left side of the table. "Come, through there!" The wiser fighter exclaimed as he burst forward to walk through the diversion; widening his eyes in surprise, Stewart suddenly broke into a run to catch up. "You can trust nothing in Cainhurst to be as it seems my friend." Alfred spoke over his shoulder as the two neared the next corridor, reaching to a balcony outside.

"W-Who and what are they?" Stewart could only ask before re-turning his head behind him to narrow his eyes at the slow-moving spectres chasing them fruitlessly.

"Dead women," Alfred merely spat out venomously, his tone seemingly directed at them themselves. Stewart turned his curious frown on the wiser man, listening intently. "When Master Logarius and his glorious Executioners came to purge these traitors for their blasphemous actions, they left those disgusting parasites in their wake."

"I... I see..." The dream-attached youth murmured out, re-turning back to give the disappearing ghosts one final look as they ascended the staircase before them.

"They are to be given no quarter," Alfred advised as they made the final climb, stepping to each other's sides; Stewart turned to his companion in a light blinking frown as he also faced him. "I don't see them giving you any mercy, after all..."

"Y-Yeah..." Stewart laughed in amiable but awkward agreement, nodding as he did so.

There it was again; that strange feeling in the way he spoke.

Either Alfred was hiding something or there was something he couldn't quite pick out about the man.

"I'm one to talk...," the youth thought to himself in twitching-faced admonishment. "If only he knew..."

I doubt he'd be so willing to help.

"Eyes front Stewart!"

The youth, wrenched suddenly from his ruminations, widened his eyes only to find the pair standing on a ruined path leading into yet another outside corridor. They stood back to back and, as they did, a similar duo approached them from the skies. Stewart's eyes shot up to his top right to find the horribly looking gargoyle descending down to glare back at him.

Wasn't this just a decoration?

"Remember... give no quarter." Alfred whispered over his shoulder, glaring back at the second gargoyle that similarly glowered back at him; it crawled toward him very slowly and deliberately. The church hunter gave vent to a battle-cry roar as he suddenly rushed the gargoyle, clinking his sword into the large hammer resting on his back.

As if called to life by the man's voice, the first gargoyle facing Stewart gave vent to a shrill sounding screech as it shot forward and attempted to bat the youth with its monstrous wing-like arms. The young hunter narrowed his eyes quickstepped to its undefended rear, reaching for his Tonitrus. Swiftly buffing it with electricity he shot similarly forward and swung the mace roughly into the shrieking creature's back; knocking it over, his morale shot up with his widening eyes when he realised its weakness. Reaching up with the Tonitrus he grunted a final time as he smashed it down to snuff the final life out of the monstrosity before swiftly turning to watch his comrade.

"A-Alfred; it's weak to lightning!"

SMASH

Stewart gasped, flinching as he felt the named man's Kirkhammer mash the poor gargoyle down into dust. A period of a few seconds passed between the two before, the dust finally settled and Stewart got a full look at the man before him. Alfred stood glaring down at the fallen gargoyle before soon re-turning back to face the youth curiously, almost as if surprised. Stewart stared back incredulously before eventually giving vent to a hilarity-filled laugh, amazed at his sheer strength. Alfred joined him very modestly, holding onto his two handed Kirkhammer, a light smile on his expression.

–

2

"Come Stewart; up here!"

The named youth gasped as he attempted to keep up with the speedy blonde. Rushing up the stone staircase he soon found his clicking steps evolving to crunching ones, taking note of the snow and the fact it led directly outside to a winding balcony. He had to stop from shivering when he stepped on out to join his comrade and companion on one of Cainhurst Castle's many roofs; his eyes widened at the majestic view he was given.

Incredible, he thought.

"What's keeping you?"

Alfred's voice, so impatient and flustered, caused him to turn and blink in light surprise. The church-affiliated warrior stared back at him in a brow-furrowed frown, clearly vexed by his friend's inaction.

"We should be more careful Alfred," Stewart chuckled good-naturedly and with a smile. His soft voice and foreign tongue was carried by the frosty night air. "We don't want to get ambushed again."

Alfred stared at him, as if surprised for a moment before soon chuckling and shaking his shut-eyed smiling head. "You are correct my friend; of course you are," he chortled, similarly cordially. He stepped forward to join his younger ally; the pair stood at one of the roof's edges, watching over the vast landscape of Cainhurst. "I can see now why you take the time to look," he smiled on quietly as he scanned his eyes across the scene before him. "It is certainly quite breathtaking."

"Yeah," Stewart laughed affably, nodding as he briefly turned to face the tougher fighter, his long brown hair blowing very lightly in the chilly wind. He soon returned his eyes to the far-off scenery once more however, smiling as before. "Sometimes it's nice to be able to stop fighting and smell the flowers."

"You are a strange one Stewart," Alfred couldn't help but laugh in response to the youth's words; the dreaming hunter could only blink in a zig-zag frown, as if unsure on his meaning. "Most hunters; they care only for blood and for the prey itself but you...," the shaggy-haired man began out in a lightly-eyed narrow frown, shaking his head softly as he spoke. "You're different."

"I-In a good way I hope." Stewart laughed back nervously, rubbing the back of his head in a show of his old habit.

"Ha-ha, of course, of course," Alfred laughed jollily. "'Let he who is without sin... cast the first stone'," he reiterated in his light smile; Stewart lost his own smile in place of a blinking frown as he listened. "An old lesson from our first vicar, Laurence," he claimed in a light raise of his head, smiling once more. Stewart's eyebrows lifted in brief surprise, immediately recognising the name. "As true now as it was then."

Laurence, he thought.

Who are you?

"Anyway, enough of the bible lessons," Alfred chuckled well-heartedly before turning his eyes down to the light cliff overlooking one of the castle's large supports. "Shall we?"

~

Even as they approached the seeming end of the castle, the hard blizzard the two men waded through only got worse. Stewart grunted and raised up his arms to shield himself from the sheer ferocity it commanded. Alfred, as if unfazed by the fierce and biting weather, frowned hard as he stepped forward, the path suggestive and ending.

Stewart reached forward in his wincing frown, his headaches growing worse in the cold weather.

"Wait, Alfred!" He attempted to call above the loud din of the snow-storm but it was no use; the church-affiliated hunter merely took a few more crunching steps forward, undaunted by the weather. His eyes narrowed forward and Stewart followed suit; he widened his own however when he saw a shape raising up from a throne-like seat not far from their current position.

Oh no.

It moved closer, ebony and all; soon the snow-storm began to lessen somewhat and they both got a better look at what they were dealing with.

A man-shaped figure stood threateningly over the pair, spinning a similarly long scythe into the air with it.

"Ah... Master Logarius...!" Alfred breathed forward as he stepped towards the unusually large shaped man, a bright and inviting smile on his face; he sent both his arms to his sides as if looking for an embrace. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting you in the flesh!"

"Master Logarius...?" Stewart murmured out as he listened, his brow furrowing in light recognition.

Was that the name he mentioned back in the Cathedral Ward?

This was Logarius of the Healing Church?

How?!

"Master Logarius... I am Alfred of the Healing Church's Executioner division; it is an absolute honour to meet you." Alfred smiled in a duty-bound bow, his eyes shutting as he did so. When the large figure slowly and deliberately advanced on the defenceless Alfred however Stewart's eyes widened in growing horror.

"No; Alfred!" He called forward as loud as he possibly could. The man seemed to hear him but not long enough to make a difference; the shaggy-haired fighter raised up his head in blinking surprise only to find the shadow smashing his scythe into his torso.

Time slowed down for the pair of adventurers; Stewart rushed forward, gritting his teeth in an effort to catch up and make a difference whereas the poor Alfred could only gasp in a pained gurgle as he was easily lifted off his feet into the air. He stared down at the similarly long-haired tall figure below him, blood dripping from his mouth as if shocked. Finally however, the tall Logarius gave vent to a single effort-filled grunt as he tossed the gasping Alfred half-way across the sky.

"No!"

Stewart's meaningless call echoed across the air with the wide-eyed and sailing bloody form of his companion; he snapped his head 'round to follow the flying form of his friend, his stress growing by the second.

CRUNCH

Stewart's eyes widened and he lost his worried grit-toothed frown in place of a horrified one.

CRUNCH

He turned his head around very slowly and deliberately, his eyes wincing with each loud step Logarius made toward him.

CRUNCH

The dreaming youth put on a firm frown as he turned his eyes up to the looming shadow of the approaching and glaring form of the ebony dressed Logarius. Finally, he stopped just short of the young man and spun his scythe around once in a hard-eyed glare, watching him hungrily.

All expectations to go to Alfred's rescue were now off the table.

I have to win this now he thought.

–

3

Logarius began with a simple diagonal swipe of his similarly long scythe, eyes glaring down at the young man below him; with ripened feet, Stewart back-shifted in an attempt to evade him. Sure enough, in spite of his growing fatigue and headaches, he at least managed to put some distance between himself and his new opponent.

The looming form of Logarius hovered his scythe up into the air and Stewart had to narrow his eyes skyward to see what he was seemingly planning.

What was-?

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end when he saw a visibly crimson-shaded energy charging upward.

Hide!

With that thought driving him on, the youth dove to his right to evade the telegraphed attack, slamming his back against one of the building walls decorated around the area. He grit his teeth together tightly, turning his head to his right, his eyes narrowing.

Where is it coming from?

He heard the ball of Arcane energy fizzle in the cold, night air somewhere close; his paranoia very quickly grew. It hit a climax very swiftly when he felt movement both to his left and right; the youth tore his back off from the small building and ran around the snowy surface of their battlefield, eyes narrowing as he did so. His eyes soon widened in horror however when he caught the tall, intimidating form of Logarius shift promptly to his front.

Oh no.

With the Arcane energy approaching from the back and his new enemy to his front he was almost out of options entirely.

Unless...

Just as he half-expected, Logarius lowered his scythe backward to attack with.

Now!

He pulled out his Hunter's Pistol and fired off a round.

BANG

Logarius gasped visibly and audibly, recoiling back to a kneed position. Stewart's eyes widened and, in similar urgency, he quickstepped forward to deliver his counter-attack.

SQUELCH-SMASH

"Come on!" The adrenaline filled youth called out, his voice echoing throughout the ancient battlefield. His long brown hair tossed around similarly wildly as he grit his teeth together in his war cry; his eyes widened however when he heard the dull whine of the Arcane energy behind him.

No!

BZT

Stewart yelled aloud in great physical agony as the slow ball finally collided with him, sending him spiralling through the snowy air. He could briefly catch the sight of the growling Logarius kneeling down, as if storing energy of some kind through his scythe. Using his free left hand, Stewart grunted in effort as he grasped at the frigid ground beneath him mid-flight to recover with; side-flipping to his right he gasped as he landed in a kneeing position. The youth could only breathe for air desperately as he watched his opponent, blood dripping from the left side of his mouth. Gravely injured, he reached down for a quick blood vial; stabbing it into his lowered left leg he soon found energy and stamina returning to his body.

I hate when I have to take those, he thought.

Surprising him once more, Logarius' shockingly quick form reappeared to his right; his eyes snapped sharply in response, his eyebrows lifting to match it. The youth quickstepped to his left, narrowly avoiding the tall man's new weapon; a longsword of some kind. It slashed apart the ground he once rested on and, attempting to take advantage, Stewart quick-shifted back forward, the small-sword part of Ludwig's Holy Blade ready.

Ducking his head with widened eyes, he managed to evade the tall man's diagonal scythe strike; he spun around in his evasion, turning it into a swift counter-attack. His weapon slashed apart at the big fighter's side; he grunted lowly in response, clearly damage being done. Logarius growled as he back-stepped to get some distance between the pair, eyes narrowing carefully forward; Stewart watched him, unsure on his motives.

What was he-?

Suddenly, and shockingly, the tall man abruptly leapt into the air with incredibly resolve and speed.

"What the-?!" Stewart gasped out; he attempted to follow his movements...

… but it was no use.

He looked around blindly for the intimidating enemy, his awareness of his task in saving Alfred's unconscious form burning in his mind.

If I die here... then so does Alfred, he thought.

I can't lo-

SMASH

Stewart's eyes widened; time slowed down to a mere peep as he attempted to piece together what had just happened.

The looming form of Logarius reappeared directly above the youth, having seemingly descended back down from the skies he previously leapt into. With his right arm he sunk his scythe deep into the young man's torso, drawing blood. When time finally returned to normal, Stewart let out a single but deeply painful coughing gurgle of crimson, held aloft from the sheer force the scythe and its owner commanded. Logarius finally finished his fearsome assault with a spinning toss; Stewart could only shut his eyes and grasp at the blade and his wound, extreme pain coursing through his body.

Soon he found himself sailing desperately and agonisingly through the air a second time, grunting in his shut-eyed suffering. Crashing hard into one of the small buildings he used as hiding places he soon dropped back down to the ground, unable to move. He struggled to breathe as he turned his wavy-eyed vision upwards, watching the tall form of Logarius slowly and menacingly advance on him.

Was this it?

This at least spelled the end for Alfred, he thought.

And that was the greatest fall of all.

Despair accompanied the blinding headache that had continually plagued him, leaving him gasping painfully for air. When Logarius had finally reached his position he spun his scythe around expertly before raising it skyward, intending to finish him with. Stewart could only watch in blood-addled despair, his eyes widening.

"N-No...," he could only gurgle out, his eyes twitching in growing horror. When the blade finally came crashing down toward him his headaches shot up contrastingly alongside it. "No!"


	14. Last Chances; to Help a Friend

Chapter 14: Last Chances; to Help a Friend  
Third Descent of the Blood Moon Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Tusk" - Yakuza 0 OST. Scene 2 (First Half).  
"It's Over; Goodbye" - The Terminator II: Judgement Day OST. Scene 4 (Second Half).

\--

While investigating the ruins of doctor Iosefka's Clinic, Stewart stumbles upon a strange letter and, even stranger, addressed directly to him. Unsure of its origins and curious for answers he follows the letter's instructions and travels to Hemwick Charnel Lane, being picked up by an oddly running coach.

With hope in his heart, the youth manages to meet with the similarly travelling Alfred; a previous companion he has made in his quest. The two opt to team up and adventure through Cainhurst together with the sole goal of exploration and information. However, not all goes as planned; in their march Alfred gives in to his much desired admiration of his idol, Martyr Logarius, and soon is left unconscious by the cold-blooded sufferer.

Leaving Stewart, as always...

… alone.

\--

Scene 1

"Am I... dead?"

Stewart's low murmurings accompanied by the pained groan he stood up with echoed throughout the chasm he now resided in. His vision began to unblur and soon he found himself in a familiar location; his eyes widened at the bars in the cell he stood in.

Oh no.

He soon realised he was inside his subconscious, just as before when confronting that one person within himself.

What was the last thing you remember, he asked himself.

As if to mock and answer him, a very window seemed to taunt him from just outside of his prison. He narrowed his eyes forward at it and soon found himself staring at an interesting scene indeed; the hard-eyed Logarius shot his scythe and sword down on the growling form of his body, except this time he was wielding the Hunter's Axe. Stewart's eyes widened.

The Byrgenwerth Butcher.

But how?

~

The Butcher laughed gleefully as he managed to push the gasping Logarius back through sheer strength alone; with a low grin he allowed the cold wind to dance his long dark-brown hair as he stared over at the watching Logarius.

"Stewart...," the Butcher chuckled lowly and knowingly, his eyes narrowing in his words. "You little fool...," he laughed this time, his words carried by the frigid air. "Filled with thoughts of saving that little church rat," he accused, briefly glancing over at the fallen and unconscious form of Alfred before soon re-turning to face the scowling martyr before him. "You think yourself benevolent and helpful... you think yourself my good side when I was but a child..."

Martyr Logarius finally began to move again; his tall footsteps crunched noisily against the deep snow beneath them both and the Butcher watched him carefully.

"But you're wrong."

He ended his sentence with a narrow-eyed hiss; as if pulled to action by his words, Logarius leapt at him, scythe at the ready. With incredible speed and surprising energy considering Stewart's earlier predicament, the Butcher disappeared completely from the common eye. Logarius' own eyes widened in shock and he snapped his head around in search for him but unfortunately, was much too late; the Butcher reappeared as quickly as he had vanished, smashing his extended Hunter's Axe across the tall man's side, sending him sprawling across the snowy ground.

CLINK

The Butcher stuck the hard hilt-end of his axe deep into the cold surface next to him, holding the weapon by its top hilt, scowling forward as he did so.

"Why you help these fools I'll never know...," he muttered on in his low scowl. "But that all changes, here today," he continued on, this time in a low smirk. "Stewart," the serial killer couldn't help but manage out in obvious and derisive laughter. "You knew you couldn't stand up these... monstrosities... and so... you turned... to me," the confident youth began in his low, knowing grin before soon and suddenly losing it in favour of his familiar low scowl. "For I... am the biggest monster... of all."

–

2

Not willing to stay down and listen to a lecture, Martyr Logarius growled lowly as he leapt up high into the air after recovering from his earlier attack. The Butcher watched him expectantly, his hard-edged frown still strong as ever on his expression.

Pathetic, he thought.

When the super-fast form of Logarius descended back down to smash him with his obviously telegraphed attack, he collided with the still standing form of the Byrgenwerth Butcher. Unfortunately for him, however, when he did, the form of his scowling body seemed to almost flash of all things. Logarius soon realised his after-image technique and attempted to prepare himself for the inevitable counter-attack but by then it was far too late.

The Byrgenwerth Butcher reappeared high into the air, plummeting down on the wide-eyed executioner.

SMASH

"'Martyr' Logarius...?" The Butcher called out loudly above the din of the screaming man beneath him; his face lit up in a gleeful, mad open-mouthed grin. "Don't make me laugh!"

CRACK

His weapon had found bone it would seem; he yanked his Hunter's Axe out of the man's body and grinned as he watched him stagger backward in immense physical pain. The Byrgenwerth Butcher spun his extended axe around his two hands expertly, a low smirk upon his expression. The snow crunched noisily under his feet as he advanced menacingly on the grunting form of his opponent.

"How did he lose to you?" The Butcher derisively snorted in his low grin. Logarius turned to watch him carefully, his eyes seemingly having trouble seeing. "You of the Healing Church... you're all the same," he continued on in his confident sneer. "You claim to be holy and yet turn your blade on anything that may be just the smallest bit different," he accused as he advanced forward. "You think yourself noble? Altruistic?"

His words vanished into the frosty night air with his own fading body. Logarius could only snap his eyes around in frantic search for the quick form of his enemy however, as before, it was entirely fruitless.

CRACK-SQUELCH

The Byrgenwerth Butcher reappeared directly behind the fallen form of the wide-eyed martyr, grinning lowly; his Hunter's Axe embedded deeply into the man's similarly long-haired head.

"Your agenda was the same as mine," the Butcher whispered out knowingly and satisfyingly, smirking as he did so. As he had expected, Logarius' form soon began to shimmer; a sign of defeat. "Now... disappear... along with the rest of your wretched kind."

SPLAT

With a final wrenching pull of his weapon, the Butcher merely watched the kneeling form of Logarius slowly evaporate into nothingness. Satisfied by the outcome his grin grew very lightly across his face as he spoke those familiar words he had grown to love.

"Prey... slaughtered."

~

A pained headache and body awaited poor Alfred as he finally stirred from his earlier rest; the young shaggy-haired hunter pulled himself up in an effort-filled groan. His blurry vision began to slowly return to him in spite of the freezing weather. He pulled himself up and narrowed his eyes forward only to find the back form of his earlier companion reaching down to pick something up. His eyes widened when he recognised it; a crown of some kind.

"The Crown of Illusions!" Alfred breathed out without seemingly thinking, eyes widened. Soon alerted, the Butcher spun his head around to face the church-affiliated hunter suspiciously. When he caught his form however he soon relaxed his face and smiled in response.

"Ah... Alfred, isn't it?" He called over amicably, smiling as he did so. Alfred couldn't help but smile in response as he nodded, advancing over to join his friend. "I'm glad you're... all right."

"Nice of you to say but I'm fine," the man chuckled in reply before regaining his curious frown as he regarded the crown in the younger youth's left hand. "What happened to Master Logarius?"

"Ah...," the Butcher murmured out lowly, his own smile soon dissolving in favour of a frown of his own. "I'm afraid that he... turned his blade on the both of us."

Soon realising his words as truth in his earlier memory, Alfred nodded gravely and unfortunately.

"I managed to unearth... this lovely specimen." The Butcher smiled this time as he now held the crown in both hands, showing it up to the shaggy-haired man. Alfred narrowed his eyes back at his companion, as if suspicious.

"That's strange...," he murmured on in his narrowed eyes. "What happened to your accent?"

The Byrgenwerth Butcher's own eyes widened, taken by surprise.

Curses, he thought.

Just need to keep this facade on a little longer.

Just a little.

"It would appear... that my memories have returned, my friend," the Butcher attempted to put on his best smiling impression of Stewart. "This crown is not the only thing valuable to me now."

Alfred stared at him for a second or two before soon regaining the smile on his own face, nodding.

"Truly, it is the blessing of the Healing Church," the robe-wearing hunter smiled as he bowed in a form of respect. The Butcher's own smile, a different kind, soon returned to his face as he listened. "The good blood truly has guided your way."

"Yes," the Butcher chuckled in slant-eyed agreement, smiling suggestively. "Yes it has, anyway...," he trailed off before soon hovering the crown forward and lowering his head, as if almost in reverence of some kind. "I believe this... is yours."

Alfred's eyes widened down at it, humbled by the offering.

"B-But this was... Master Logarius'..."

"The way I see it...," the Butcher began in soft response, eliciting a surprised frown from the older man. "Given your connection... there is no-one else more suited to than you for this, my friend." He lied on as if he were speaking the absolute truth.

Alfred took it all in, as he had expected.

"Y-Yes, I-I think I can see your point," the appreciative sounding fighter nodded in response. "T-Thank you... Stewart."

The Butcher merely smiled back at him, hiding a knowing and suggestive smirk behind his falsehood.

When Alfred took the crown from his hands, he watched as he placed it slowly and deliberately upon his head. As he had half-expected, the light snow-storm they stood in kicked up a notch; the Butcher opted not to lost his low smile as he watched the visible frigid wind toss around their clothes. Alfred gasped as he brought up his arms to block the frighteningly cold air, waiting for it to die down. When it finally did however, the two were left with a surprising scene indeed.

The castle before them almost seemed to open up; a hidden passageway now lay before them, as if activated by the crown upon Alfred's head.

"Incredible...," the named church hunter gasped out as he stepped forward, the snow crunching noisily under his boot. "That those damn Vileblood be hiding behind parlour tricks like this," he growled out lowly and hatefully. The Butcher smirked similarly lowly as he listened, watching him purely through a turning of his eyes. "Thank you, Stewart," Alfred smiled this time, bowing gratefully; the Butcher revolved to face him, a friendly smile upon his expression. "Without you... none of this would be possible."

"Not a problem."

"Now... I would ask very politely that you leave, my good friend," Alfred smiled sadly this time however before reaching back for his Kirkhammer. The Butcher's eyes narrowed and his smile grew, almost as if knowing what was about to happen. "I'd... rather you didn't see this."

"Oh I'm sure I can handle it...," the Butcher chuckled knowingly, a fake amicable smile upon his face. "Alfred."

–

3

Even before the pair marched up to the final throne room, presumably where the queen lay in waiting, the Butcher felt the screaming Stewart knocking at the bars of his cell in his subconscious. Clearly angry at the Butcher's actions it would appear the headaches were the telltale sign of both Stewart and the Butcher.

Or, more precisely, whoever was currently locked away.

"Master, look! I've done it, I've done it!"

Alfred's echoing, triumphant voice wrenched him from his thoughts; the Byrgenwerth Butcher raised a half-curious eyebrow upward only to watch the blood-covered form of his comrade. Alfred stood strongly over the fallen pulp of what appeared to be left of the Vileblood queen, his arms both sent to his sides as if to display the achievement.

The Butcher couldn't help but crack a low grin as he watched.

"I smashed and pounded and grounded this rotten siren into fleshy pink pulp!" Alfred's maddened and even almost psychotic voice echoed throughout the large and long chamber. "There! You filthy monstrosity!" The executioner yelled down at the eerily twitching flesh laying on the throne before them. As the Butcher slowly stalked up the small staircase to join him he watched the oddly cone-shaped iron helmet he wore.

A staple of the Healing Church's executioner division.

"What good's your immortality now?!" Alfred laughed out knowingly and superiorly. "Try stirring up trouble in this sorry state!" He called out victoriously. "All mangled and twisted, with every inside on the outside, for all the world to see!"

His words, though echoing as before, soon erupted into full-blown laughter. The Byrgenwerth Butcher's silent smirk told all of his inwardly satisfied thoughts.

"Oh!"

Alfred's call made him turn his newly formed fake smile on the executioner.

"So you did follow me after all...," the man exclaimed out, as if surprised. "Well, all thanks to you... I've done it!" He claimed, his voice successful and similarly satisfied. "Well...? Isn't it wonderful?" He laughed out shockingly amiably as he gestured towards the ruined flesh of the Vileblood queen; the Butcher's smile hovered over the damage he had done. "Now, Master Logarius can be canonised as a true martyr!"

"Oh yes," the Butcher finally answered him, smiling and all. "I can admire the work you've done here."

"Thank you, so much Stewart Forbes; you have been a true friend," the executioner smiled behind his iron mask. The Butcher turned briefly to face his comrade-in-arms before soon regaining his fake smile and nodding as he paced back towards him. "There is little need for an executioner these days and so... I may retire." He claimed as he shook the younger man's hand.

"A great loss for all of Yharnam." The Byrgenwerth Butcher shot out in his low friendly smile; Alfred couldn't help but laugh whether out of response to his words or simply through his own madness was left up for debate.

~

Stewart's hardened frown never left him, even as he trudged on back through the Cathedral Ward.

"What's your problem?"

The Butcher's voice.

"I saved us both."

"Did you have to let Alfred do that?" Stewart spat back angrily as his boots clicked upon the hard pavement he walked upon.

"You little fool..."

Stewart opted to remain silent this time as he walked, listening intently.

"Do you honestly think you can make a difference in this god-forsaken hell-hole?"

Again, the youth remained silent.

"You will lose yourself to your madness, little Stewart."

Stewart merely frowned as he walked, listening as always.

"Yharnam will swallow idealistic children like you and spit them right back out; I promise you."

The dreaming youth shut his eyes, as if attempting to rid himself of the Butcher's voice. Before he could do so however another voice interrupted their one-sided conversation; a woman's.

Who-?

He turned his head, surprised, only to find a familiar but fallen figure lying up on the staircase leading to the grand cathedral.

Eileen!

Urgency took over and the young man rushed over as quickly as he could, skidding down just opposite of her fallen form he winced down at her.

Blood, everywhere.

She was gashed and in dire need of repair.

"O-Oh... is that you again...?" The old woman gasped out raggedly, turning her crow-like mask upwards to watch her visitor. "I-I'm afraid I've... made a little bit of a blunder...," she couldn't help but seemingly chuckle, almost as if knowingly. "I'm just going to have a short rest..."

Stewart's eyes widened, fear gripping at his system.

Not another one, please, he thought.

"Oh, don't worry," Eileen laughed back at him, seemingly grinning behind her mask. "I've taken enough blood to save an old woman like me."

"B-But if we don't move you then-"

"No more dreams for me...," Eileen softly interrupted his words with a raggedy gasp, turning her head skyward as if in thought. "This is... my last chance...," she coughed out violently, her fallen body shuddering painfully. "What a fool I am...," the old hunter of hunters couldn't help but laugh this time, as if in knowing somehow. "To think that I could have ever made a difference."

Stewart found himself narrowing his eyes in recognition.

There she went again.

She definitely knows something.

"Eileen I have to ask you-"

"Turn back," she interrupted him once more, this time firmly and forcefully; Stewart's eyes widened in surprise. "You have no right being here."

"B-But Eileen I want to help; I-"

"My prey lies in the cathedral; you are not to interfere," she growled out as she gripped her side roughly, the pain from her wound driving her on. "You don't have the stones to finish this job; I guarantee it," the wiser warrior warned him, eyes narrowing through her mask. Stewart's eyebrows lifted before soon lowering in response; a sign of challenge. "Now... leave me to this-"

"No."

Eileen's eyes widened, taken aback by his abrupt challenging response.

"I'm sorry?"

"You just sit there Eileen," Stewart advised as he bent his knee back up to stand, soon revolving his head to face the open double-doors of the grand cathedral. "It's time I did my part."

–

4

Even as he approached, Stewart had to stifle the butterflies drawing in his stomach.

This was just like any other battle and, as before, a companion's life was on the line.

I can't lose here tonight, he thought.

When he finally began to spy the far-off figure in the distance, his eyes narrowed.

Strange, he thought.

This person wore the same sort of clothes that Eileen herself wears.

So why...?

Judging from the person's height and their tone, Stewart deducted him as a man and, recognising the mask he wore from his adventure in Cainhurst, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

The 'Bloody Crow of Cainhurst' was it?

He stood, his back to him, seemingly watching the large decorated table and ornaments on the cathedral wall. Stewart made no attempt to hide his approach; his firm frown carried him forward, his steps clicking noisily across the hall. The Bloody Crow, finally seemingly catching onto his presence, about-turned eerily quickly, eyes almost narrowing behind his mask.

Silence.

Stewart stared similarly suggestively through his centre-parting long brown hair. The Bloody Crow surveyed him as carefully as his young opponent did, as if sizing the youth up.

The tension was truly palpable.

No words need be spoken between the pair; the Bloody Crow made the first move, as silently as he had carried himself, he stalked forward very slowly watching the similarly monitoring Stewart. Stepping around the previously activated lamp, he examined the youth very closely and deliberately. Stewart followed suit, eyes narrowing as he stepped around the very lamp he himself had lit much earlier in his adventure; multiple thoughts shot around his mind as he watched him, drinking his appearance in.

Why was he wearing the same garb Eileen wore?

The mask and katana he carried seemed to indicate a closeness to Cainhurst of all places.

What could the story be here?

Finally moving to action however, the Bloody Crow offered Stewart no more time to ruminate; rising up his right hand he clicked his fingers once, the sound echoing noisily throughout the grand cathedral. Stewart's eyebrows lifted and his eyes widened with them when he caught the visible form of the Crow shimmer into smoke and then successfully disappear.

"What the-?"

His silent thoughts were interrupted when he felt the super-fast form of the Crow shift to his undefended rear; his eyes snapped to his side and, swiftly narrowing, he acted. The youth bounded forward in an agile quickstep, narrowly avoiding the mutually nimble Crow; the dreaming youth spun around to face the slow-walking form of his enemy, eyes narrowing.

That smoke technique, he thought.

"Gehrman-sensei..." Stewart breathed out in brow-furrowing acknowledgement and identification.

Yet another curious fact about this man.

Who was he?

One thing's for sure, he thought.

Don't get caught by that Chikage.

As if reading his very thoughts, the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst swung his seemingly light katana across the air; blood visibly encapsulated the blade and Stewart's eyes narrowed at it thoughtfully.

Was that a buff?

With frightening agility, the Crow smoked in and out of the area in a zig-zag formation as if to avoid the youth entirely. Stewart's eyes darted in each direction he travelled in.

You're quick, he thought.

But not invisible.

The Crow finally leapt forward after a successful smoke-step, his Chikage held high; Stewart's eyes widened when he saw it coming. The young man bent his body to his lower right, narrowly avoiding the blade's diagonal direction before hastily spinning his own quick sword slash in his recovery. As he revolved across the room he listened to the Crow growl out; Ludwig's Holy Blade found its mark and Stewart couldn't help himself from grinning very briefly as he spun around in his recovery.

Now a safe distance away from the watching Bloody Crow, Stewart allowed himself to rest for a short time; he watched the mysterious hunter carefully and silently. The Crow reached into his feathery garb as if to procure something; when he abruptly brought it out to toss forward, Stewart's eyes widened.

Can't move in time!

He gasped as it struck the ground dead ahead in his face; the youth shot up his arms to shield himself from whatever damage he may be taking.

Surprised he took none however he blinked and turned to watch his arms, lowering them. When he saw a strange smoke encapsulate his body his eyebrows lifted in sudden realisation.

Numbing Mist.

He grit his teeth and shot his narrow-eyed frown on the calculating man before him.

Can't rely on any blood vials now, he thought.

Just like Gehrman-sensei said.

Alerting the young hunter once more, the Bloody Crow procured his strange pistol, raising it up. Stewart's eyes widened and he quickstepped to his left in pure instinct; taking advantage, the super-fast Crow ghosted to his further left and Stewart found himself gritting his teeth as he flew to his west. He shot his smaller sword variant of the Holy Blade to a similar direction in anticipation of what was coming next and was glad to.

CLANG

His weapon clashed deafeningly with the spark-emitting Chikage the Bloody Crow brandished so threateningly. The pair stood locked in a sword-struggle, glaring at one another before the Crow finally followed up; pushing forward with surprising force he sent the gasping Stewart stumbling backward before swiftly roundhouse kicking him across the face.

"Gugh!"

With his sudden and pained call, Stewart was sent careering across the darkened chamber of the grand cathedral; his eyes widened however just as quickly as he was kicked. His senses heightened he used his gun-arm to grasp at the firm ground beneath him before pushing with rock-like force. The youth bounded backward in an agile backflip, dodging the reappearing Crow's third diagonal sword-slash; landing on the cathedral's wall behind him, Stewart just as quickly cannoned himself off the wall and dove right toward his still recovering opponent.

The Bloody Crow of Cainhurst widened his eyes beneath his mask before snapping his head around to watch the contrastingly eyed Stewart rocket toward him, as if a Quicksilver bullet shot from his Hunter's Pistol.

CLANG-CLASH

Stewart's Holy Blade collided firmly and hotly with the grunting Crow's Chikage; the student to Gehrman forward-flipped as he landed, skidding across the ground. Not one to allow him any time to recover however, the Bloody Crow gave pursuit, buffing his blade with blood. Stewart acted on his movements by swiftly about turning and grabbing the huge sheath laying around his back.

CLINK

His sword transformed magnificently to go with his surprise-turn and, narrowing his eyes, the dreaming hunter smashed his weapon with the Crow's in a brutal and wide horizontal slash. As if shocked by the sudden ferocity and force his opponent commanded, the Crow could only gasp as he was sent skidding back, Ludwig's Holy Blade transformed just too much for his comparably small katana to handle. Pressing forward to catch the stumbling Crow however Stewart's eyes narrowed once more as he used his absurdly huge great-sword as a pole-vault to leap forward high into the air.

The Bloody Crow of Cainhurst could only watch in shocked, widened eyes as his opponent plummeted threateningly toward him, a roaring battle cry on his lips. He attempted to move out of the way but the youth managed to deduce his movements and successfully caught him.

CRASH

When the smoke finally cleared from the entanglement, Stewart lay suspended in mid-air, eyes narrowed determinedly down at his enemy, both hands gripping his great-sword tightly. Time seemed to slow down for the pair and, when he finally got a look at the Crow, he found his Chikage horribly broken from the fierceness of his great-sword. Ludwig's Holy Blade rested comfortably across the poor man's right shoulder, pierced through the bone and body, dissecting him half-way.

The fight was over.

Time finally regained its normal flow and, when it did, Stewart grunted as he yanked his weapon clean-free from its resting place. The Bloody Crow's flesh and bone gave out a sickening squelch and cracking as he did; Stewart landed onto the ground finally in an echoing click, eyes narrowing forward at the falling form of the Crow. When his wobbly form wavered he dropped what was left of his similarly poor Chikage, landing to the ground with an audibly loud clang.

Merely raising his great-sword back to rest behind him, Stewart didn't even stay long enough to watch and listen to the grunting Crow drop to the ground painfully.

He did however hear the Butcher speak within his subconscious.

"Impressively done... little Stewart."

~

"... Don't you... ever listen to your e-elders...?" Eileen's raspy and pained voice managed to croak out in a half-chuckle as she leant back against the staircase and the pool of her own blood beneath her. By now Stewart had returned to her side and placed down some extra rags of clothing he had stored to leave her more at ease.

But it killed him to see her like this.

A small, very scared part of him niggled at his nerves as he watched her.

Please don't die, he thought.

Please.

"N-No matter...," the cockney-sounding old woman smiled beneath her mask. "You did save my life... I don't... seem apt for this life anymore though..."

"Eileen, please..." Stewart murmured out as he knelt down directly across from her, wincing, his adrenaline from his earlier engagement gone.

"Y-Yes... my glory days were long ago now...," she chuckled under her breath once more, rising her masked face skyward. The elderly warrior shut her eyes mid-speech before slowly re-opening them. Her wavy eyesight slowly gave form to the worriedly-frowning Stewart kneeling dead ahead. "Ha-ha...," the old woman rasped out, her feathery armoured body convulsing with her low laughs. "Ha-ha-ha...!" She managed to barely cough out, fresh crimson spitting from her throat to the already bloody rags she was cushioned with.

"What's so... funny?" Stewart couldn't help but ask, frowning in uncertainty.

"You...," she responded straightforwardly and unabashed, hiding no absurd meaning behind her words. "You truly are an odd one... Stewart Forbes..."

The youth's eyes widened in both shock and surprise.

How much else did she know if she knew his last name?

"Oh don't look so frantic," she grinned beneath her mask. "You wouldn't even be here if I thought you a threat."

Her words, though spoken in confidence, gave him a mixed and bizarre sense of comfort and unease.

"E-Everyone I've researched with about you has basically told me the same thing...," she began once more, gripping her grievous wounds on the left side of her torso. "Oddly sentimental... for a hunter."

Stewart remained silent as he listened, opting to respect her seemingly last words through duty.

"The prophecy... could be right after all."

The dreaming hunter's eyes widened a second time as he listened.

Prophecy?

Suddenly memories of his discussion with Armand in the Byrgenwerth Lecture Hall came rushing back to him.

There is still so much I do not know, he thought in an unhealthy mix of frustration and anguish.

"P-Perhaps... you... could be the one to set sensei Gehrman free." The wise old warrior postulated quietly, a light and tired smile upon her hidden face. Stewart's mind raced as he listened, near unwilling to believe how informed she was.

"You know Gehrman-sensei...?" The aghast-expressed youth could only breathe out, his brow furrowing further by the second.

It links up with what she cryptically claimed back in the Tomb of Oedon, he thought.

"I tried... so hard back then... back when I was in your shoes...," Eileen chortled mirthlessly, coughing mid-speech. "But alas... it was not to be..."

Opting to remain silent once more, Stewart let his mouth hang just ever so slightly open, concentrated on observing intently.

"S-Stewart...," Eileen gasped out spirally once more, scowling in her growing physical pain. "Reach into my garments..."

Obeying her instructions the young man stretched forward ever so slightly and went digging around in her inside-clothes. Sure enough, he pawed at two noticeably light items inside and procured them both out; looking down at them he narrowed his eyes to find both a scrap of parchment and a badge.

A Rune and a hunter's proof of badge.

Both very delicate and important items indeed.

"E-Eileen I can't just take these, I-"

"Sh...," the older fighter interrupted softly, shaking her weakened head very lightly. In spite of her unusually delicate manner, Stewart found himself falling silent regardless. "You are the last hunter in Yharnam now," she informed him gravely. "The last true one anyway."

"But what do you-?"

"I trust you," she interrupted once more but well-meaningly. Stewart couldn't help but gasp very lightly, his eyebrows both lifting in sudden surprise. "Ye're rough around the edges... and not very bright," Eileen added, as if in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "But you are a good person," she claimed, this time with a confident and warm smile. "I can see that now."

Stewart found his heart dropping to his stomach in a sickening wrench, leaving him speechless and clawing for words with which to reply with.

"If anyone can help bring Yharnam out of its shell... it's you," the old woman smiled at him through her mask, leaning back as she grasped at her unsealing wound. "This cycle of misery and grief must end sometime...," she managed out, her voice rising to a pained higher pitch, the pain seemingly growing with each passing second. "It has to..."

"Eileen..." Stewart murmured out, frowning sadly down at her as he did.

"Surely you'll... let an old woman... rest now... won't you...?" The elderly warrior smiled out huskily this time, her breathing swiftly becoming weaker and audibly tired.

Oh no.

Eileen turned her fast-closing eyes on the grief-faced youth one final time. "See you in the morning... Stewart Forbes..."

–

5

"Curse the fiends, their children too... and their children, forever true... curse them... Byrgenwerth."

Stewart's eyes widened and wrenched in a horrified gasp as he yanked his head back, shocked and terrified, as if waking up from sleep paralysis.

What the hell happened?

Last I remember, he thought, I was re-travelling through the Cathedral Ward.

His memories quickly returned to his fight with Cainhurst's 'Bloody Crow' and then, the passing of a companion he had made in his journey.

But... then what?

He strained his adjusting eyes and soon found himself in what he initially thought was inside Oedon Chapel; his original goal of travel.

And yet...

Noah, the elderly lady, the narrow-minded man, Adella and Arianna were no-where to be found.

Could they have left?

But why?

His eyes widened when a memory suddenly resurfaced.

A giant Amygdala managed to get a hold of him on his way back... and then...

All went dark.

"Where am I...?" Stewart asked no-one in particular, turning his eyes upward; the chapel looked like a complete copy of the original he had left behind in the Cathedral Ward.

Could I be in the afterlife?

His growingly paranoid ruminations gnawed at him and when he saw the already opened doorway before him his eyes narrowed.

Only one way to find out.


	15. The Forsaken Tactician; the Man Who Lost it All

Chapter 15: The Forsaken Tactician; The Man Who Lost it All  
Chains of the Byrgenwerth Blasphemy Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Laurence – The First Vicar" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 2 (First Half).

\--

Central Yharnam. The Cathedral Ward. Old Yharnam. Hemwick Charnel Lane. Yahar'gul Unseen Village. Forsaken Castle Cainhurst and, of course, Byrgenwerth.

All these places has Stewart Forbes adventured through. Although he has gained much knowledge and strength in his quest, his morale fades with each burning step he takes through the misery-torn city of Yharnam. His other side; a second personality of the boy, also known as the Byrgenwerth Butcher, hounds Stewart constantly from within. A ceaseless power struggle has begun between the two since their fateful battle with Rom, the Vacuous Spider; with the Butcher's immeasurable cruelty and Stewart's magnetism the two make an uneasy but fearsome duo.

Searching for an answer separate from the Butcher's, Stewart attempts to fruitlessly lock his hateful side away. In spite of this however, the two through their mutual need to advance begin to very gradually trust one another. With knowledge gained from such names as Gehrman, the First Hunter, Djura of the Powder Kegs, Eileen, hunter of hunters and, of course, the Byrgenwerth Butcher himself, Stewart dares to hope to make a difference in the ruined and war-torn land of Yharnam.

His first challenge however...

… shall be the most significant he would ever come across.

\--

Scene 1

Sneaking quietly through to the outside of the chapel he stood in, Stewart's eyes narrowed and darted around in quick scanning. Floating to rest on the dilapidated and fallen architecture, he quickly deduced the horribly placed area.

Why was there a copy of Oedon Chapel here?

Am I just hallucinating this?

The youth's thoughts reverberated to and fro the walls of his mind as he turned to march up the growing hill to his right. Narrowing his eyes as he stepped forward he soon began to hear the background noise of the Butcher in his head, ever scratching at his cell bars.

"I know exactly where we are, little Stewart."

The young man's eyes twitched in his hardened frown as he listened.

Don't respond, he thought.

That's what he wants.

"Of course it's what I want," the Butcher shot back, his voice echoing in his consciousness. "It can get lonely in here all by myself, you know..."

Thankfully for him, a sudden noise to his sharp left made him snap his eyes in the noted direction; they widened very briefly before he leant his body down to hide behind one of the rocky inclinations. He spied two similar beasts to the human-like ones in Old Yharnam marching on before him further up the hill; direct-ahead of them stood a darkly dressed figure. The Byrgenwerth native watched intently as the figure, seemingly a male form, pulled back a strangely winding sword of some kind. Multiple blades seemed to be attached to the weapon in a similar manner to the Threaded Cane.

"A Beast Cutter... impressive workmanship."

Stewart's eyebrows lifted in a mixture of surprise and acknowledgement as he heard the Butcher's words echo across the walls of his mind.

So it was called a 'Beast Cutter'?

He could only furrow his brow at the incredible speed and range the weapon took, making earlier workshop weapons look pale by comparison.

"Oh yes... I wonder if my Hunter's Axe and your Holy Blade could stand against it... hm...?"

"Shut up..." Stewart threw out over his shoulder in a low mutter, his eyes still firm on the screaming hunter ahead. He stepped out from his hiding place and strode forward very slowly, allowing the malevolent hunter time to finish his prey. Stewart stopped striding in a suggestively sour scowl, leaning his body to the side as he did so. The nameless hunter stopped moving, double-taking in the youth's direction before soon similarly staring back at him.

Silence.

Only the quiet background sound of the ambience permeated through the air, filling the watching duo with a growing rush of contrasting adrenaline.

Finally, after what seemed like an age of a challenging glare, the nameless hunter made the first move; he pulled his Beast Cutter backward and the multiple blades flew through the air gracefully. Narrowing his eyes, Stewart quickstepped forward through the attack. He managed to avoid the initial strike before slashing at his opponent's lower left side with the small-sword variant of his Holy Blade, both hands gripping the hilt and held aloft to his left. The man called out a curse loudly and angrily as the attack made contact before growling as he pulled his Beast Cutter back the way once more.

This time the blades all came rushing back to the hilt at once.

Taken by surprise, Stewart's eyes widened before he abruptly bent his body diagonally to avoid the attack.

But only just.

With the small window to counter-attack he was given, Stewart allowed himself to yell with effort as he grabbed the huge sharpened sheath hanging on his back. Combining it with his small-sword he formed the fully transformed Holy Blade, spinning in a fearsome spiral-slash attack.

The nameless hunter let out an echoing, pained cry before soon gripping his horribly wounded torso and body, dropping to his knees. Spinning the great-sword he carried to rest lightly on his shoulder, both hands on the hilt he frowned down at the slow-vanishing form of his enemy.

Who was that?

Whoever it was, he thought.

He focused on those beasts like no-one's business.

Maybe there's a reason for that?

"Oh if only you knew..."

The Byrgenwerth Butcher's chuckling voice vibrated vicariously. Stewart attempted to ignore him a second time by re-resting the great-sword he carried across his broad, ebony-dressed shoulders and this time with a single arm. Pressing forward he climbed up the rest of the small hill before soon finding himself at the summit, looking down. His eyes narrowed a second time that day and, as they did, he quickly noted the familiar area below him.

It looked very similar to a portion of the Cathedral Ward.

Just as the Oedon Chapel behind it.

Just what is going on?

He soon double-took, his eyes gliding over a strange sight indeed.

Not far below lay a fallen body of a figure dressed in conspicuously grey armour; another hunter similar to the one the youth had just dealt with, loomed over the fallen figure threateningly. Stewart's eyes caught the figure's whitened hair.

An old man?

Was he still alive?

Urgency suddenly hit the dreaming hunter and, breaking forward into a sudden sprint, Stewart sunk his head downward to increase his speed-gain. Pulling his right arm back to grip for his weapon he shot his body in a deft downward tackle; the hunter widened his eyes and double-took to his left only to find his footing disturbed. Stewart's low grunt of effort was punctuated with the satisfying sight of his new opponent tripped up and laying on the ground. Acting fast, the young dreaming hunter spun his body around unnaturally athletically before soon standing and twirling Ludwig's Holy Blade above himself. The wide-eyed hunter below him could only watch in widened eyes before, finally, the great-sword came crashing down in a stabbing motion.

The ground rent up rocks and boulders to mix with the poor screaming man's life-juices. Stewart visibly winced, leaning his head away from the painful spurt of blood that came flying up from his piercing attack before soon turning his eyes down on the similarly bizarre-expressed man laying next to him. In his staring he took the elderly warrior's outlook in.

His simple greyed white hair hung on his head quite neatly, seemingly combed over to one side. He sported a tough-looking mutton-chop moustache; it fit strongly with the similarly grey armour he wore so well. A few paces away from his feet, as if knocked from his hands, a trio of assorted weapons seemed to be laying on the ground.

An iron mace spread itself across the rocky ground, not far from a strange second piece; a huge iron saw. A Hunter's Pistol, the only piece of equipment that Stewart recognised, sat comfortably around the pair of weapons.

Unsure on what to say, Stewart could only stare for a second before he briefly shut his eyes and smiled on down at the older-looking gentleman.

"T-Thank you...," the old man gasped out as he extended a hand upwards to grasp at the smiling Stewart's, effectively pulling him up. "I thought I was finished..."

"I'm just glad I finally helped someone," Stewart confessed in a friendly chuckle, smiling back at the older fighter. "How did you end up here?"

"I-I'm not sure, I...," the nameless elderly man murmured out as he used his free left hand to grasp at his head, as if feeling similar migraines. "I remember stepping through the Cathedral Ward but..."

Cathedral Ward?

Stewart's eyebrows lifted in recognition.

"Are you a hunter...?" Stewart asked hesitantly, furrowing his brow at the older fighter, suddenly becoming suspicious.

Was he here for a reason?

If so was he even telling the truth?

"Please... relax yourself," the man smiled back in spite of the atmosphere, using his half-raised left hand to emphasise his request. "I mean no ill-will, I assure you."

Stewart nodded slowly, his right hand hovering back down from his great-sword once more.

"My name is Gustav, Youthful Gus," the elderly man smiled on before folding his arms and chuckling good-naturedly. "At least, that is what my friends once called me." He introduced himself amicably.

"Stewart...," the named youth smiled back in response as he reached forward to shake the man's hand a second time for their official meeting. "I am, or thought I was... Yharnam's last hunter." He claimed boldly but knowingly, lowering his eyes as he thought of Eileen's last words.

"Is it that bad in Yharnam these days...?" Gus murmured out in a low furrow of his own brow before soon sighing through his nose and shaking his head. "It would appear not even the Healing Church can save the city..."

Stewart lowered his own eyes in response to the man's words and a period of sombre silence plummeted down upon them; Gus used the time to turn around, bend down and pick up his equipment. He placed the fearsome looking saw to rest centred around his back and grabbed his pistol and iron mace. Spinning the mace expertly around his right hand, smiling up at the younger hunter.

"Thank you again, truly!" He smiled onwards. "If it wasn't for you that rogue surely would have gotten me."

"Don't worry about it," Stewart smiled cordially, shaking his head of any credit. "Are they that strong? That saw looks scary..."

"Well yes...," Gus trailed off as he turned his head briefly back to eye the saw resting on his back. "They are certainly fierce here and psychotic of all things... but they come here in droves," he explained this time in his hardened frown. "I fought off at least four of them before you managed to save me." He claimed, his eyes narrowing suggestively as he spoke; Stewart's own eyes widened in shock and horror.

Just like Yharnam.

They were horribly outnumbered.

"What about you; what is your story?" Youthful Gus frowned out as he raised his iron mace to lock it in place atop the saw resting on his back, soon folding his arms as he did so. Stewart raised his eyes up to frown back before soon chuckling in a mix of sheepishness and friendliness.

"It's a long one..."

~

"You are certainly a strange one... Stewart of Byrgenwerth," Youthful Gus smiled as the pair travelled together along one of the strange area's paths; the two hunters walked side by side up a trio of staircases similar to the one back in the Cathedral Ward. "To have been so sentimental... especially for a hunter."

"I get that a lot," the dreaming hunter chortled amicably, rubbing the back of his head as he did; a sign of his old habits. "So how long have you been in this place?"

"Not long," Gus answered him with a deft shake of his head, turning his hardened eyes forward as they ascended up the staircases. "I'd just barely arrived before I was attacked by those four louts and-" He began in his explanation before double-taking in the youth's direction as they raised themselves up the second-last staircase. Gus had turned to his right, seemingly the only exit out of the area, before soon realising his new companion had stopped entirely.

Stewart stood in a strangely transfixed gaze, his eyes locked on the familiar double-doors above them both.

In his mind, the youth could very faintly hear the sound of a call coming from behind the doors, seemingly muffled.

Help...

Help me...

"Stewart... what's...?" Gus frowned out quizzically as he turned his eyes first from the doors and then to his friend once more, unsure on the situation.

"Can't you hear that...?" The Byrgenwerth native managed to murmur out very lightly before re-narrowing his own eyes forward and stepping on the next staircase.

"Hear... what exactly?" The elderly warrior similarly muttered out, shaking his head in unconfirmed bewilderment. He stepped forward to join his comrade, still unsure but willing to side with the youth.

Stewart kept his eyes focused on his next goal and pushed apart the familiar pair of great double-doors, creaking loudly. Even as they ascended, Gus found himself turning his eyes across each brightly lit torch adorned on the walls next to them both, wincing.

"I don't like this...," he whispered out in a mix of suspicion and growing anxiousness. "Stewart!" He hissed out in an attempt to bring his new friend back. Unfortunately however, the youth did not listen; instead he merely continued ascending, his eyes narrowing as he listened deep within his mind.

The calls were becoming more fluent and much more louder as he grew closer.

Finally as they ascended the staircase together Stewart found himself stopping mid-march, his eyes widening in surprised shock. Youthful Gus followed his movements similarly, likewise aghast at the horrifying sight that lay before them.

A huge Cleric Beast lay sitting atop a similarly large chair, as if made for the very beast itself. The royal cloth that lay across the seat under it seemed to almost suggest a connection to Yharnam.

A familiar sight indeed.

"Stewart!" Gus hissed out, his eyes fixed on the beast before them. "It would be in our best interests to leave this place!"

In the youth's mind however, those earlier calls he had listened to had now grown as clear as the brightest light that Yharnam had once known.

Help me... Please...

"Can't you hear that?" Stewart murmured out, his eyes fixed on the beast before soon tearing his gaze away to face his companion, surprised.

"Hear what, I don't understand." Gustav frowned out, shaking his head dismissively. Stewart's eyebrows lifted in light surprise before he soon lowered them along with his eyes themselves, a small smile adorned on his face.

"You go on ahead without me Mr. Gus," the former Byrgenwerth Butcher smiled warmly and a little sadly. "I'm gonna go help him."

With that, the dreaming youth turned on his heel to leave, his hunter boots clicking against the ground beneath them. Gus gasped and attempted to grasp out at his clothing but missed, swiping at the air. He called on after the younger warrior in an urgent hiss but it was far too late; Stewart paid him no further heed.

Marching forward, Stewart's eyes narrowed forward; particles of fire began to dance around the air he walked in and he soon found the Cleric Beast engulfed in this same flame. He noted the odd position in which the beast sat in; as if a religious figure of some kind.

Strange, he thought.

Didn't they abhor fire?

H-Help... m-me...

The voice, a man's, seemed to echo throughout the chamber once more, this time clear and seemingly pained of all things.

A baritone and one not familiar to Stewart's ears.

When he finally approached, the beast began to move.

It almost frightened him.

First its claws started to twitch and, as they did, a single sphere of flame materialised in its left clawed palm. It bony torso and body soon began to stir in tandem with the rest of its body and, as it very slowly pulling itself out of a long sleep, the Cleric Beast pushed itself gradually forward. Its free right arm hovered up to its head and, as it did so, it called out in a loud and echoing screech; a familiar shriek that Stewart knew all too well from the beginning of his adventure.

Help... me...

The voice seemed to coincide with the echoing shriek the Cleric Beast gave and, as it did, it reached forward with its now free bigger left arm to grasp at the youth. Stewart's eyes widened and he stepped backward to avoid the creature's clutches, his eyes narrowing at the beast before him. Its right clawed arm still hung around its head and it gave vent to one final scream, this one raucous enough to shake the very ground the pair stood on.

HELP ME!

–

2

The beast turned its crown to the ceiling and gave vent to an anguished howl; Stewart took the opportunity to sprint forward and joined his small-sword with the sheath on his back. Pulling out the great-sword he now wielded he grunted in effort as he swung it across the beast's pair of stubby legs; its scream rose to an even higher octave as it registered the attacks before responding in kind. The nameless Cleric Beast slammed its smaller right fist down to counter-attack with and, widening his eyes, Stewart rolled to his right in successful evasion. It followed its counter up with a second slam of its much larger left fist.

The area in which he once stood in become engulfed in the same flame that the beast was.

What the hell?

Don't Cleric Beasts despise fire?

Using the second opportunity presented to him, he narrowed his eyes and pressed toward its undefended rear and slashed his transformed Holy Blade across its legs once more in a couple of effort-filled swings. He gasped however when the beast recovered faster than he expected; it snapped its head 'round to face him and the youth couldn't help but stare back.

Oh no.

Using both its arms this time it reached down as quickly as it could and just barely managed to grasp at the youth's body, pulling him up. His body soon became covered in the same flame that the Cleric Beast commanded and, as he was pulled up, he feared the final attack rearing its ugly head. Stewart's eyes widened as he struggled in the eerily silent creature's grip, his eyes twitching in their frightened state.

SKRRR-SCREECH

The Cleric Beast's grip was severed almost as soon as it was connected; Stewart caught the scowling-faced Gus leaping in between the pair, his saw-like weapon running through the monster's fiery flesh. Time finally regained its normal flow and, as Stewart fell to the ground in a deft backflip, he turned his surprise-eyed frown on the similarly skidding Gus; the elderly warrior turned his body around in his recovery, frowning firmly as his saw shrieked out almost as loudly as their enemy did.

Stewart couldn't help but smile over gratefully and wordlessly; the older gentleman merely put on a smaller smile of his own and nodded once in greeting and acknowledgement.

As if to call the pair of warriors however the Cleric Beast screamed out chillingly and angrily, its voice reverberating across the walls of the cathedral they all stood in; the pair of hunters snapped their heads and their frowns over to it. The afflicted monster used its now free arms to sweep the ground in a pair of angry attacks, seemingly focused toward ending the pair swiftly. Though Stewart back-flipped in evasion, Gus narrowed his eyes and, with incredible dexterity, landed on the beast's larger left arm. His Whirligig Saw spun wildly in the iron mace it was carried in as he immediately gave chase to run up the very arm itself. As if unable to believe its eyes, the Cleric Beast could only watch him, shocked.

SKRRR-SCREECH

The Cleric Beast let out another pained scream of anguish as the Whirligig Saw was forced into its face and head, endlessly spinning and hacking at its fiery flesh.

Amazing, Stewart thought.

His adrenaline picked up with his companion's and the youth took off on after the pair, lowering his head to increase his speed. The Cleric Beast attempted in vain to swat off the narrow-eyed and leaning Gustav and, as it did, Stewart grunted as he skid across the ground, hacking at the creature's legs once more.

This time it shrieked even louder than before.

Its arms pulled back from swatting at its enemy to lower along with the rest of its body and, as it did, a light explosion of fire forced the grunting pair of Yharnam hunters to back-shift off of their enemy's presence. Skidding backward in evasion they narrowed their eyes forward together only to find the fallen Cleric Beast now legless and crawling on its very arms themselves. The flame it so coveted was left behind in its crawling wake.

All notions of pity were left out the door however when the monster turned its shrieking eye to scream at the pair; they both widened their eyes and leapt to their respective left and right, avoiding the projectile of lava and flame it sent their way.

Perhaps grown desperate and even angrier than before, the nameless Cleric Beast began to slam upon the ground noisily as it crawled in heavy pursuit, knocking up lava and flame when it did. It turned on its right to give chase to the rolling Stewart, eyes fixed on its prey. Stewart narrowed his own eyes at the creature before spinning his Holy Blade once around his right shoulder, encasing it in Bolt Paper. Before he could press his own attack however, the leaping Gus suddenly decided to plummet down upon the hollering Cleric Beast, his Whirligig Saw viciously tearing away at the creature's head and flesh.

Youthful Gus turned his head up to widen his eyes over at his younger companion, opening his mouth.

"NOOOW!"

Needing no further prompting, Stewart grit his teeth and spun his Holy Blade once more before immediately breaking into an urgent sprint. The Cleric Beast's scream echoed vociferously, impulsing the two to finish the job.

With that final thought searing through his mind, Stewart gave vent to his own first scream of effort during the whole engagement, roughly but effectively stabbing his lightning-encased great-sword through the beast's skull and head.

The air was rent with a single and final screech of pain; it pulled its body up to scream toward the ceiling one last time, its left smaller arm following its movement before it decisively dropped back to the ground.

SLAM

Stewart could only breathe heavily in wide-eyed shock as he watched the creature burst into further flames, leaving him and his companion safe.

"Prey slaughtered! Jolly good show Stewart!"

Gus' voice was lost to him however, as the bright orange flame before him soon heightened to an intense luminous white. When it escalated to its zenith, Stewart soon found himself listening to the Cleric Beast's earlier strangely calm voice.

Thank you...

~

The brightness of the area began to slowly dim but only enough for the youth to see; the area he now stood in was an inky whiteness of luminosity.

"You have done well... young hunter."

The baritone voice, so familiar and soft, began to echo throughout his mind as it had done before as if to signify his restoring vision. Before him a figure cloaked in the same white light stepped forward to join him. Stewart could only stare, astonished and all. When the brightness finally began to dissipate around his figure, Stewart at last got a good look at his former enemy.

A tall man, perhaps around his height, wearing royal-looking robes both native to Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church. He carried with him a tome, seemingly a similarly regal-looking thing. His long dark-black hair went down to his shoulders, a similar fashion akin to the young Stewart.

"Tell me, young hunter... what is your name?" The nameless man asked in a sociable smile, using his free left hand to gesture forth, as if to emphasise.

"S-Stewart." The dreaming hunter gave claim to in a quizzical frown.

"Stewart... you looked familiar...," the robed man chuckled knowingly; the youth's eyes widened in response, as if on the defensive. "Who would have guessed... that the Byrgenwerth Butcher would have come to grant me eternal rest?" He chuckled in a strangely amicable tone. Stewart could not bear to keep his gaze on the man's own eyes, his shameful secret so suddenly revealed. "Oh do not be coy master Forbes; I remember you well."

"S-So then... who are-?"

"Don't you remember me?" The nameless Healing Church operative chuckled, shaking his head in his smile. "I am Laurence of Byrgenwerth... First Vicar of the Healing Church."

Stewart couldn't help to gasp, his eyes widening and his eyebrows lifting in similar shock.

Laurence!

"You wouldn't happen to be... dreaming this, would you?" The man asked, frowning this time as he leant his head forward. Stewart blinked once before soon nodding as he recognised the code-word he used. "I see... so you truly do have no memory of Byrgenwerth... perhaps even of anything else."

"I have... so many questions for you b-but-"

"As do I... young master Forbes," the newly introduced Laurence smiled over at him in an assenting nod. "We have all the time in the world... let us begin."

–

3

"Ah... I see," Laurence nodded in understanding as he listened, turning his own eyes away in a mixture of disappointment and melancholy. "I am... saddened to hear that Yharnam has become so fallen."

"I'm gonna change that."

Surprised, the First Vicar turned his curious eye on the hard-frowning Stewart; the young hunter glared back at the older man, his body leant to the side as if for dramatic effect.

"And I don't care how long it takes me."

"Do you realise what you're saying master Forbes...?" Laurence murmured out, losing his smile for the second time since their discussion. "Not with ten-thousand men could I save Yharnam and not once did I fail but twice," the older, more experienced tactician explained very briefly. "You are but a boy Stewart... what can you do...?!" He hissed out as he stepped forward, staring directly back at the glaring youth. "Yharnam is in the state it is in... because of me master Forbes... I caused this."

"But I am still here," Stewart repeated himself from his earlier debate with Armand. "You might think I'm alone... but I'm not." He answered, this time in a confident low grin.

Though his words were clearly referring to the Butcher living silently inside him, they caught his curious attention.

"How can you be so confident...?" Laurence whispered out incredulously, shaking his head as he took a disbelieving step backward. "The reason that I beckoned the Moon Presence was to ease the pressure of the growing scourge of the beasts... but this isn't just a problem that you can easily erase!" He exclaimed this time, his voice echoing across the walls of the strange dimension they stood in. "No-one can stand up to that Great One! Not even Sir Gehrman could do it!"

"There is a way."

Laurence stopped short of speaking, blinking once in another bout of surprise. His brow furrowed quizzically as he watched the youth grin back at him, his body leaned to the side. Reaching into his capeless hunter's garb, the young hunter very carefully pulled out the strange fleshy cord he had acquired from the abandoned old workshop. Laurence couldn't help but exclaim in a hushed gasp, using his free left hand to grasp at his mouth as if to emphasise the gravity of the discovery. He reached forward with this hand however and took it in his own, staring down at it in pure disbelief and bewilderment.

"Incredible... you found one..."

"I have two actually."

Again, the First Vicar could barely contain his awe; he snapped his eyes upward to stare back at the grinning young man. As if to prove his claim however, Stewart reached back into his garb to grab the second umbilical cord; the one he procured from the ill form of Iosefka's imposter. With yet another look of passion, the bewildered former vicar could only gasp in awe.

"Three..."

"Third cords... right?"

Laurence stared back at the smiling youth; Stewart raised a curious eyebrow upwards, as if to confirm.

"Right?" He asked, this time in a spreading low grin.

"Yes...," the Healing Church vicar nodded amicably. "Yes my research concluded that one would need at least three of these to even consider approaching the magnitude of a Great One like the Moon Presence."

"Two down... one more to go." Stewart grinned back confidently in his acknowledging nod.

A strange kind of silence descended down upon the pair before Laurence finally opted to interject in with a boisterous laugh. Stewart's confident grin soon fell in place of an unsure and quizzical frown.

"W-What's-?"

"You are certainly not what appears to the eye... young master Forbes," the former tactician couldn't help but chuckle as he wiped at his eyes; a tear of hilarity. Reaching forward he returned the first cord he was given before putting on a genuine smile. "Perhaps you truly can make a difference in Yharnam," he finally relented in his warm expression. Stewart's smile slowly surfaced once more as he listened, his mood growing with his compatriot's. "To save its people however... you may have to give more up than just physical effort."

This time Stewart frowned in bafflement.

"W-What do you me-?"

"To give yourself up... body and soul; a vessel for the Hunter's Dream...," Laurence cryptically claimed as he smiled forward; a sad kind of smile. "Only one of intense insight and power could truly do such a thing..."

The brightness of the area began to engulf and intensify once more; Stewart's eyes widened in surprise and, as he opened his mouth to respond, the sadly smiling Laurence began to fade from his view.

"N-No, Laurence wait!" The youth called out as he reached forward to grasp at the disappearing older man.

"Thank you again... master Forbes."


	16. Power of the One

Chapter 16: Power of the One; Proving Oneself  
Chains of the Byrgenwerth Blasphemy Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"West Insanity" - Yakuza II OST. Scene 2 (First Half).  
"Ludwig, The Accursed" - Scene 3 (Second Half).  
"Ludwig, The Holy Blade" - Scene 4 (First Half).  
"The Reluctant Heroes (Instrumental) Stewart's Theme – Attack on Titan OST. Scene 5.

\--

In the beginning of their adventure through this strange land they were carted off to by mysterious forces, Stewart and the Byrgenwerth Butcher manage to meet a new friend and companion. An elderly Yharnam gentleman by the moniker of 'Youthful Gus'. Having rescued him from total obliteration, they exchange pleasantries and discover their histories and, for the first time, Stewart decides to reveal his origins as a dreaming hunter to the man, his first true friend since Gilbert.

While exploring through this strange nightmarish landscape, the two hunters come across a grand cathedral, much like the one in the Cathedral Ward. Inside they are faced with one of the most frightening incarnations of horror yet; an inflamed Cleric Beast, immune to fire and most forms of conventional weaponry. In spite of their terror however, the two manage to team up and overcome their massive obstacle. When they did however... only Stewart is given an audience to what the Cleric Beast once was.

Laurence, the First Vicar.

His name and very status having been deified since the beginning of Yharnam's rise and downfall, Stewart's expectations of the man were meteoric to say the very least. In his conversation with the legendary man, Stewart discovers a substantial amount of information; as his suspicions were confirmed, the Great One's umbilical cords were indeed the key to overcoming a Great One's power. However, even in doing so, Laurence reveals one unsettling little secret...

"To give yourself up, body and soul; a vessel for the Hunter's Dream..."

\--

Scene 1

The Byrgenwerth Butcher spectated the smiling Stewart sail through his conversation with the similarly smirking Gustav from his prison inside the youth's subconscious. Numerous things skimmed through his own mind as he watched the pair soundlessly exchange words together.

Why do you do this, he thought.

His internal words, directed at the smiling Stewart, had at first been a simple small niggling at his consciousness and yet now...

Now it had grown significantly since then.

First the denizens of Central Yharnam; Gilbert and Gascoigne's little girl, then those in the Cathedral Ward; Arianna, the old woman, Noah, Alfred, Adella and even those who did not wish rescue; the narrow-minded man.

The one that still racked his mind with puzzlement was Eileen, hunter of hunters however.

When he watched the youth fight desperately with Cainhurst's Bloody Crow in an effort to assist a dying former dreaming hunter, the Byrgenwerth Butcher couldn't truly understand Stewart's motives.

He watched the child-like innocence in his smiling eyes and narrowed his own at them, as if to look for some kind of lie or weakness.

As always, he could not find it.

"You might think I'm alone... but I'm not."

His words to Laurence in his fateful meeting not a few hours ago.

Was he talking about me?

I don't know, the Butcher thought to himself as he shook his head very softly and slowly, standing in his prison, his arms at his sides.

"All I want to do is make things better."

His words to Armand in the Byrgenwerth Royal Lecture Hall.

Was he lying then?

He couldn't have been, he thought.

I know when he is lying; we are two sides of the same coin.

"I am still here."

His words to both Laurence and Armand regarding the state of Yharnam, and his intentions to save the land and its people, single-handedly.

"Why...?" The Butcher murmured out as he re-narrowed his eyes forward, shaking his head softly one more time in response. "Why do you do this...?"

"You might think I'm alone... but I'm not."

The Byrgenwerth Butcher, in spite of his previous malice toward him and all peoples he had encountered, couldn't help but grow a very small smile on a tiny corner of his face.

~

"That was impressive."

"Oh stop," Stewart couldn't help but laugh as the pair trudged on through the bloody marshlands of the strange landscape they both inhabited. "I wouldn't have come out of that alive if it weren't for you."

"Come now young one; you have much strength for a boy your age!" Youthful Gus smirked out as he folded his arms in his march, turning his eye up at the smiling youth next to him. "I had wondered where you headed off after our fight with that terrible beast!"

Gus' words reminded Stewart bitterly of his encounter with the myth of Yharnam itself.

Laurence.

His earlier words had managed to unsettle him.

"To give yourself up, body and soul; a vessel for the Hunter's Dream..."

What did he mean?

In spite of finding the man of legendary reputation, his questions about him and of his words' meaning were merely magnified a thousandfold.

If only I knew what the Butcher did, he thought.

Then maybe I could make sense of all of this.

"Stewart."

The named hunter blinked, stopping his march alongside the hissing Gus next to him. Stewart turned his eye and raised eyebrow on the older gentleman, unsure. Tracing his transfixed gaze, he soon found himself staring face to face with another hunter – seemingly a man – in the otherwise unmanned landscape. Stewart's eyes almost immediately narrowed and he found his nerves heightening up just as his companion's did.

The man looked like any other hunter of Yharnam would bar a few oddities; he wore standard hunting gear except that it was ragged and torn all over.

Strange, Stewart thought to himself.

The atmosphere grew very tense between the staring trio; the nameless hunter ahead of them moved first, stepping through very carefully through the blood-addled pools of the ground before them, as if to watch them. Stewart exchanged a wordless glance with the similarly frowning Gus before they both soon nodded, a silent agreement upon them.

This seemed to be one of the nightmare's many mindless hunters.

And yet something inside Stewart made him doubt that.

Was it the way the man moved?

Perhaps.

As if to answer the pair, the nameless ragged hunter went into his clothes to procure a strange kind of weapon; Gus and Stewart both tensed as they watched and reacted in kind.

A Bowblade.

"In the name of-"

Gus' bewildered words were lost to the listening youth; he quickstepped to his right to avoid the sailing arrow that came rushing directly for him. As he landed to his right he stared wordlessly back at the nameless hunter before him, spying the great-bow now in his left hand.

"All right then...," Stewart began lowly as he whiffed a diagonal slash with the smaller variant of his Holy Blade, eyes narrowing forward as he marched very gradually forward. His slow march soon began to escalate into a full blown sprint, his target the nameless aggressor ahead of him. "Come on!"

–

2

Quickstepping a second time diagonally to his right in an effort to avoid the aggressor's next arrow, Stewart grunted once in effort as he executed a similarly diagonal upwards slash with the small-sword he carried in his right hand. The nameless hunter gasped as he transformed his own trick weapon to deal with the sudden assault.

CLANG

The two blades sang against one another noisily in the sunlit background of the bloody ground they stood on; sparks intensified by the pair as they glared at one another. Stewart found himself glaring at an eyeless man, hidden behind a bandanna and a hooded getup.

Who are you, he thought.

SKRRR

As if to interrupt the two swordsmen, the narrow-eyed Gus appeared directly above the pair to their left and right respectively, his Whirligig Saw held back the way, whirring and revving vehemently. Stewart's eyes widened and, as if sensing the man's intentions, the nameless bowman also broke his hold on his enemy; the pair of swordsmen back-shifted from their current position.

CRASH

Gus' Whirligig Saw revved noisily into the crimson ground, eating up at the life-juices staining its teeth with as he landed; he spun his body around athletically, as if holding a lawnmower. The nameless bowman spun his sword-like blade around his right hand before shifting forward to attack the still recovering form of the elderly warrior; Gus narrowed his eyes and halted the saw's spinning to withdraw it on his back surprisingly quickly before spinning the iron mace he was left with.

CLANG

The pair of Yharnam hunters glared at one another, their weapons causing sparks similarly to the last engagement. They didn't have long to deal with however when the narrow-eyed Stewart came plummeting down from the sky, clanging his small sword to join with the large sheath on his back, forming Ludwig's Holy Blade once more.

The great-sword crashed against the ground in which the nameless hunter once stood; he broke his hold on Gus in a grunting back-step, eyes narrowing past his bandanna as he skid along the ground. Transforming his blade back into his great-bow he affixed a pair of arrows and shot them horizontally across his weapon.

CLINK

CLANG

Stewart stuck his great-sword diagonally up to block the now spinning Quicksilver arrow as he pursued the nameless man hungrily; Youthful Gus similarly used the now spinning saw hanging on his back to swat the harmless arrow from his face, eyes narrowing forward. The bowman watched the pair carefully before standing his ground, taking his legs and arms far apart to ready himself. Stewart grunted once before leaping up into the air; with impressive speed the youth easily appeared out of view of the common eye. Unfortunately for the watching man before them however, he still had to deal with the charging Gus.

SKRRR-CLANG

The Whirligig Saw revved noisily and hungrily, its teeth clashing with the grunting huntsman's transformed sword. Finally re-appearing to view, the yelling Stewart swung his great-sword widely across the air in which the pair stood; Gus knew to tilt his head to the side, effectively avoiding the attack. One step ahead however, the narrow-eyed huntsman similarly leaned his own head to avoid the attack but did not count on the follow-up.

Stewart swept the gasping bowman's legs, knocking him over from his grip on the ground.

Reaching into his speed, the nameless hunter growled as he speedily used his free left hand to grasp at the ground and push firmly off of it. Rolling multiple times through the air athletically, he effectively evaded Stewart's noisy vertical slash, the bloody ground kicking up the crimson juice everywhere they stood. The pair of allies watched their enemy roll through the air before exchanging one wordless glance and nodded.

As the nameless bowman glided through the air and finally landed in a spinning skid, he soon widened his eyes at the sight before him.

Gus yelled out in effort as he pulled his iron mace back, the Whirligig Saw spinning on it.

Oh no, he thought.

The elderly warrior forced his saw off the mace he carried as if a projectile of some kind; it reacted in kind and sailed through the air, still spinning hungrily. Reacting alongside it, the grinning Stewart leapt up with intense agility to rest on the spiralling saw. As if a shuriken of some kind, the nameless bowman reacted by bending his body across the air in which he stood in, gritting his teeth with the effort. Time slowed down for him as he watched the shut-eyed, smirking Stewart spin alongside the saw he rode on before finally moving aside from it.

The athletic youth short-hopped in a deft side-flip off of the saw as it flew away from him, finally in range; he vertically slammed his right foot across the nameless hunter's face in a second air-somersault, this one a back-flip.

"Hurgh...!"

The bowman could only grunt out in pain as blood flew from the corner of his mouth he was kicked in, his body sailing upwards through the air. Time slowed down a second time for the pair and, as they both landed, they attempted to react in kind; Stewart spun around gracefully in his recovery and the bowman gripped his sword tightly in his right hand, his left reaching for the ground.

Finally however, as they both landed, the fight was over in an instant.

The grinning Stewart stood in a new position; his body was leant to the side, the great-sword he carried pointed directly at the man's wide-eyed throat. The youth held his free right hand back behind him in a finger-clenched fist.

"Checkmate!" The confident young hunter grinned over at the wide-eyed nameless bowman.

~

"All right... you can finish him now Stewart," Gus managed out in an elongated sigh as he bent down to pick up his earlier thrown saw. Attaching it to his back, he turned once more to walk over toward the oddly frowning youth and raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" The older fighter questioned quizzically.

"I was... hoping we could avoid that..." The young man chuckled nervously as he smiled back in response, his great-sword still hung pointed at the bowman's fallen throat. When Youthful Gus shot him a look of mild annoyance, Stewart couldn't help but chuckle uneasily in response.

"We can!"

The pair of men, surprised, snapped their heads and their eyes back down to their former enemy; the nameless bowman smiled on up at the two hunters and nodded.

"It would appear you are both men with your sanity intact," the nameless bowman smiled on in his brief explanation, raising his body up via his two elbows. Stewart, out of instinct, pulled back his weapon from stranding the poor fellow. "Good fight gentlemen; you both successfully and well overpowered me. Your teamwork is astonishing."

"Thanks." Stewart couldn't help but chuckle in response, rubbing the back of his head in a show of light embarrassment.

"I'll decide whether that was a good fight or not...," Gus replied as he nodded his head up at the man below them, folding his arms, contrastingly distrustful. "What is your name?"

"Isn't it customary to introduce oneself first before asking someone's name?"

Silence.

Stewart winced as he felt the palpable tension in the air between the two hunters.

"M-My name is Stewart!"

The pair of hostile men turned their heads to frown back at the intruding youth and listened. Stewart put on a sweating smile, attempting to ease the growing tension between the pair.

"This is... Youthful Gus!" The hopeful youth smiled once more as he gestured toward the frowning and folded armed fighter. The nameless bowman raised an eyebrow before cracking a small grin of his own as he listened. "What is your name?"

"Apologies sir...," the ragged hunter apologised in a breath as he pulled himself up to his feet, brushing his torn clothes of dust. "But I had to be certain you weren't both slavering animals."

"Yes... same for us I'm afraid to say," Gustav shot back as he frowned over at the similarly experienced warrior. "So... you are from Yharnam I take it?"

"Yes, the Healing Church actually," the man claimed before soon bowing to the pair in a sign of respect. "Former Templar of the Healing Church under Master Ludwig's command; Simon." He finally introduced himself with as he smiled beneath his bandanna.

"Ludwig..." Stewart murmured out as he listened, the name passing through memory.

Didn't I hear that name before, he thought.

"The Healing Church? You realise how things are in Yharnam these days, yes?" Gus claimed as he frowned forward, evidently disapprovingly.

"Quite so," the newly introduced Simon smiled back in response. "It was only recently that I managed to gain access here."

His comments made Gus and Stewart both exchange a curious look together, raised eyebrows and all.

"A-And, what is this place...?" Stewart questioned in a low-murmuring stammer.

"This... is the Hunter's Nightmare, where hunters end up drunk with blood," he very briefly explained, his black beard and goatee turning up a bit as he smiled in his words. "You've both seem them before I'm sure," the Healing Church Templar claimed, eliciting a mixed look from the listening pair. "Aimless, wandering men and women, slavering like beasts."

He's right, Stewart thought.

His mind immediately went to the psychotic man he encountered not five minutes into his journey wielding the Beast Cutter.

"This is what the poor fools have to look forward to...," the man venomously spat out as he shook his head as if in disapproval of the hunters he spoke so lowly of. He raised his right bony fingers to hover just short of his lowered head, as if to ponder. "So, don't be brash; turn back before it's too late." He advised truthfully.

"Hrm...," Gus frowned out as he tilted his head ever so slightly as he listened. "I'm not sure what you-"

"No way."

The pair of older men turned their ears and heads to the young Stewart's soft but impetuous interruption. The third dreaming hunter stood in a hard-eyed glare, his body leant to the side in a demonstration as if to show his determination. He clenched his two fingered fists at his sides as he did so and opened up his mouth to continue on.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," the youth declared hotly as he stared back determinedly at his former opponent. "Not after my conversation with Laurence."

"Laurence...?" Simon frowned out as he listened, raising his head, surprised. "Not... the Healing Church's First Vicar Laurence...?"

"Yes."

Gus spat out in similar shock, eyes widened. "W-What?! That mindless beast? That was Laurence?!"

Stewart put on a small smile as he nodded, turning his head to face his companion. "Yeah; it was after we stopped him that I got to speak with him."

"And... what did he say to you?" Simon's voice, piqued interest interrupting their own conversation. Stewart turned back to face their new ally, frowning this time.

"We spoke of Yharnam and of its state," the youth claimed truthfully. "We talked about... ending the Hunter's Dream and the Hunter's Nightmare."

"The Hunter's Dream...," Simon breathed out in a low whisper, taking a hungry step forward. "I had thought it was merely a myth..."

"I must admit I did not realise either...," Gus murmured out in response, folding his arms as he tilted his head thoughtfully at his companion. "Are you... one of them...?"

Even the unknowledgeable Stewart knew what he meant when he asked him that; the youth merely nodded in his grave frown.

"I don't believe it...," Simon gasped out in a low smile as he listened. "You are a Dreamer!"

"I'm not the first," the youth shook his head over at the older man ahead of him. "That'd be Djura of the Powder Kegs."

"Yes, I recall his name," Simon admitted in his light smile, his voice soft-spoken. "We all remember the last stand he took at Old Yharnam with his comrades."

"Yes, we do," Gus agreed as he also recalled the name in reverence of the legendary warrior in name. "We also remember the atrocities the Church committed that very same night."

Silence.

Though Stewart was far too young to remember what they were referring to, his conversation with the legendary Djura himself brought him up to speed.

"Yes... I remember Master Ludwig offering little in recompense for the matter; they were merely beasts to his eyes...," Simon explained very briefly and in a small, sad frown. "It never sat well with me."

"Did it not...?" Gus questioned uncertainly, raising a curious eyebrow upwards as he did so. "Hrm... I'm glad to hear that."

Simon put on a soft and amiable smile in response, nodding in understanding before re-facing the listening youth. "Who else followed you?" He asked him, eliciting a surprised raise of eyebrows in response.

Oh he means the dreaming hunters, Stewart pondered silently to himself before soon nodding and answering.

"A woman; the last hunter of hunters," he explained very briefly, his mind going back to his formerly dying companion in the Cathedral Ward. Simon's own eyes widened a second time, as if almost in recognition. "Eileen."

"Yes... Master Ludwig's killer."

The pair of listening hunters couldn't help but allow the shock to cross their faces, sharing their stupefied expressions together.

"Though she often worked in the shadows... Lady Eileen was said to be the greatest of her line; only she could have stopped my mentor from his beastly transformation." Simon explained very briefly in his lightened sad smile.

"She failed to tell me that..." Stewart breathed out as he warded a step forward, his brow furrowing in response.

"So, she also was a Dreamer?"

The young hunter nodded in reply. "So she told me."

"What else did she say to you?" Gus questioned his companion in a light frown, turning his folded armed frown on the youth. Stewart blinked as he faced his older friend before soon lowering his eyes sombrely.

"She... wasn't confident she'd make the night...," Stewart finally gave vent to his earlier conversation with his older second mentor. "She was chasing another blood-drunk hunter and... I had to help her,"

"She'd dead, isn't she."

The pair of men turned to face the frowning Simon.

"Yes...," Stewart nodded wistfully. "She asked me to free Gehrman-sensei from the Moon's Presence."

"The Moon Presence...?" Youthful Gus murmured out in repeat, his own brow furrowing in response.

"Sir Gehrman is still alive...?!" Simon hissed out disbelievingly. "I had thought that was merely a rumour..."

"He's been watching the Hunter's Dream ever since this whole thing began I suppose," Stewart elucidated in his wan smile. "There's only one way I can do what she asked; Laurence and I both agreed on it."

"And that is...?" Gus frowned out, raising a curious eyebrow.

As if expecting the very question before it came out of his mouth, Stewart reached into his capeless hunter's garb and procured one of the two umbilical cords he had received in his adventure. The pair of older men couldn't help but let the surprise crease their faces in reaction to the revelation. They both hazarded a step forward and leaned down to examine the cord, eyes narrowing similarly before soon exchanging a look with one another.

"Sir Laurence... must be talking about the prophecy." Simon finally piped up, re-energising the conversation. Gus raised a curious eyebrow in response as he turned his eyes to face the younger warrior.

"Prophecy?"

But Stewart already knew what Simon was talking about.

"Master Ludwig always held this close to his heart...," Simon grinned lowly, as if in remembrance of his old mentor. "The Prophecy of the Old Blood is an old Pthumerian teaching."

"The Pthumerians..." Stewart murmured out in light recognition, his eyes narrowing as he listened.

"Yes... the ancient ones before us humans; I know of them." Youthful Gus nodded in understanding, following the conversation in his folded-armed frown.

"Their prophecy foretold one among the Dreamers ascending to a new race entirely in order to save not just their doomed civilisation... but the one that would follow theirs."

Stewart's eyes widened once more yet, this time, in pure shock surprise.

Is this what the Butcher was working toward?

"Prophecies," Gus began out with an audible scoff, visibly not impressed. "Hardly a notion a man of great importance such as Sir Laurence should take faith in."

"It was all he had faith in Gus," Stewart replied very softly, surprising the older gentleman; he turned to face the saddened youth, his eyes lowered to the ground in remembrance. "Laurence's back was up against a wall; he had no options left."

"Wise words," Simon agreed in his grave frown. "They called this particular Dreamer by a certain name," he began one final time in his last explanation, pulling the surprised pair of companions to turn their heads up in response. Simon couldn't help but let a light smile cross his features as he spoke. "'The Last Hunter'."

–

3

"Stay close you two...," Simon breathed out as he entered the narrow corridor first, allowing the two men behind him to follow. "If I am correct in my calculations... we move into dangerous territory here..."

"What do you mean exactly?" Gus questioned from the back of the row, tilting his head as he did so. Stewart opted to remain silent as he followed their new compatriot of Yharnam into the similarly bloody floored room before them.

It looked more like a fighting arena than a basic room.

Once inside, the trio of hunters kept their guards up; Simon affixed a Quicksilver arrow to his Bowblade, Youthful Gus readied his iron mace and Stewart spun his small-sword around his right fingers, eyes narrowing around the arena. All 'round their position lay countless reddened bodies and corpses, some even still alive.

Horrifying, Stewart thought to himself.

"Ahh, ahh, please... help us... Ah..."

The three men held back from gasping, turning their heads in direction of the soft but hissing voice echoing throughout the chamber.

SLAM

A large arm grasped at the bloody ground not far from their position, shaking the very foundation they all stood on. The arm's hair was much and the three men's blood ran cold when they saw it.

"An unsightly beast..." The owner of the arm hissed out onwards as it pressed further forward, seemingly belonging to a man's. "A great terror looms...!"

With its words, another part of its body snaked into the light; its top was filled with all kinds of body parts – hands, legs, hair and even a tail of some kind. Its legs – more like horse's legs than anything – slammed forward as it marched onwards for the three men that disturbed its rest.

"Ahh... Ludwig the accursed... is coming..."

Simon couldn't help but widen his own eyes as he watched the beast before him gave vent to a very light growl, one of its many mouths opening to reveal a horrifying sight indeed. Eyes rested in its mouth and all kinds of weapons remained sunk into its body, as if a stuck pig.

"Have mercy... have mercy upon us..."

The beast audibly spoke towards them, addressing them directly but its main mouth did move in tandem with its words; it raised its main head along with its right arm. Gus took a step backward as he reached for the saw resting on his back, eyes narrowing while the watching Stewart could only merely spectate in growing horror.

"Master Ludwig..." Simon gasped out, shock and horror creasing his expression, as if halting any action he might be able to take.

The beast half of the monstrosity before them gave vent to a loud and screeching roar, as if nails on a chalkboard however, the man's voice from before soon joined its scream with a low-sounding and malevolent chuckle.

~

Giving them very little time to react, the large half-beast, half-man creature leapt forward and raked its claws horizontally in order to catch all three of them in one fell swoop. Utilising his Bowblade, Simon shot forth an arrow and, with incredible agility, leapt on top the sailing projectile. With its Arcane strength, Simon found himself easy foundation for the Quicksilver arrow to handle; he transformed his Bowblade into a sword as quickly as he boarded it however and grunted as he ran the blade across the screeching Ludwig's main face.

Stewart instead used the corridor's closely knitted walls to leap athletically across, rolling through the air to avoid the beast's attack. Slamming his longsword into the sheath on his back with an audibly loud clink he narrowed his eyes as he similarly slashed the shrieking Ludwig's face, landing in a safe roll forward.

Opting for a completely different strategy in mind however, Youthful Gus' eyes widened as he smashed his saw into his iron mace, clinking together audibly well. It immediately started up with a winding squeal and challenged the very strength of the accursed's claws. Ludwig's one visible eye widened as he watched the contrastingly narrow-eyed Gus charge forward with his right clawed arm; sparks flew intensely between the two but, as time wore on, Gus found himself stepping forward and forcing the gasping beast back.

Coating his next Quicksilver arrow in fire, Simon affixed it to his Bowblade and side-flipped over his last landing arrow, closing a single eye as he aimed. Time slowed down for the former Templar knight before he finally let fly the flaming projectile. As it sailed through the air, the narrow-eyed Stewart sprinted on after it, spinning the Holy Blade great-sword he carried once around his arms, encasing it in Bolt Paper. The youth grunted once as he leapt into the air, his Holy Blade held back to attack with.

SLAM-BZT-SQUELCH-SKRR

All at once the trio of hunters' attacks made their mark; Gus' Whirligig Saw broke through the beast's lengthened nails raking at his flesh brutally, Simon's fire-coated Quicksilver arrow sunk painfully into the creature's second mouth leaving it aflame and, finally, Stewart's lightning-encased great-sword smashed the monster's back fiercely. The ferociously timed team strike left Ludwig a howling cacophonous and his very body erupted into a savage mix of inferno and fulmination.

Opting to find safety in spreading out, the three companions quickstepped back from the howling Ludwig's position; Gus to the chamber's back right, Simon to the far left and Stewart dead-centre. The trio exchanged unsure looks with one another as they watched the screaming monster give vent to a second roar; the electricity and fire soon dissipated and, as it about turned to glare hatefully and hungrily at the triad of warriors, it pulled its main mouth back. Narrowing his eyes forward Stewart watched it aim for the curious-faced Simon, unsure on its motives.

"Get the hell out of there!"

The Butcher's voice.

It was a projectile!

"Simon; move!" Stewart bellowed out in a dull echo, his own eyes widened as he leapt to his far right alongside the grunting Gus. The named former Templar let shock cross his face as he snapped his head between the leaping Stewart and his aiming mentor. His body finally allowed itself to move and, the older hunter unfortunately also let panic hit his nerves as he quickstepped to his left in order to evade the incoming wave of Arcane energy it sent his way. Stewart's eyes widened a second time as he watched, fear gripping his system as he saw the yelling Simon quickstep into the attack.

"No!" He exclaimed attempting to move his own body as soon as he landed, however, the hard-eyed Gus grabbed him by the shoulder; the youth snapped his urgent frown on the older gentleman, receiving only a similarly hardened shake of his white head in response. "But-!"

His words were interrupted before he could even consider finishing them.

The screeching Ludwig suddenly leapt its huge mass into the air; the last pair of hunters snapped their heads upward to find him but a tiny dot descending down toward them from the high ceiling. Urgency gripping the two, Stewart leapt forward in an evasive roll while the narrow-eyed Gus simply quickstepped backward. Raising his Whirligig Saw up he started it up once more and landed skidding across the bloody ground below him.

CRASH

Ludwig landed dead-centre above the grunting Gus, using both of its clawed arms to attack him with this time. Youthful Gus let out a low and growing yell of effort, his eyes widening along as he exuded more power into his saw. This time Gus found himself being pushed back and, as he did, his war-cry of effort knocked against the stone walls of the large chamber they fought in, sparks flying between them. The on-watching Stewart leapt in a forward-flip before slamming his great-sword into the creature's exposed back; while the bolt-infused attack caused it to scream an octave higher it did not seem to impact its attack in any way whatsoever. The spectating youth grit-toothed face twitched a few times as he held his weapon with both arms, forcing into the creature with all his strength.

SQUELCH

This time Ludwig let loose a shrill and air rending wail, forcing its previously determined attack off of the wide-eyed Gus; the older warrior took the opportunity offered to him and used his right arm to push off of the crimson ground into a somersaulting recovery. Stewart's eyes narrowed upwards to find the source of the saviour; a flame-encased Quicksilver arrow. The youth turned his eyes over to his right to find the scowling-faced Simon, plenty banged up but still safe, kneeling with his Bowblade held back.

Stewart couldn't help but smile.

SLAM

Wrenched back into reality, the dream-sustained hunter gasped as he turned his eyes over to watch the fallen Ludwig drop to its sanguine floor, seemingly defeated. Ludwig turned his one good eye over to the source of a strange mint-coloured light. The trio of watching hunters widened their eyes similarly as they listened to it give off a dull hum, surprised. Ludwig merely opened his main mouth in a strange kind of smile, seemingly beginning to speak once more.

"Aah, you were at my side, all along," his deep, very human voice reverberated across the walls of the battle arena. The area grew suspiciously dark before soon regaining light; as it did, the three allied hunters found their enemy newly standing holding the source of the mint-coloured light.

A great-sword.

"My true mentor...," he spoke loudly, smiling up at the glowing blade. "My guiding moonlight..."

As his words echoed one final time, he brought the huge sword down with both broken nailed arms, blocking the right side of his face. He glared forward with his one good eye at the horror-faced Stewart; his target chosen.

–

4

Almost immediately as he brought the blade down with his left arm he slashed at the youth far-off diagonally; a similarly glowing emerald-shaded projectile was fired off with shocking precision at him. Stewart's eyes narrowed determinedly and he quickstepped forward as it approached him before soon quickstepping a second time to avoid the second diagonal blade beam sent his way. Following up on his projectile attacks, Ludwig charged forward with frightening speed and growled as he held onto his blade with both arms, diagonally slashing physically this time as he approached the quickstepping youth.

Stewart grit his teeth as he just barely managed to avoid the monster's strike by bending his body backward; the Holy Moonlight Sword hummed noisily as it sliced the air just above the grit-toothed youth. Attempting to assist his companion, Gus let forth a war-cry of his own as he plummeted down from the sky, his weapon whirring fiercely.

SKRRR

Though Ludwig yelled similarly in pain he immediately about-turned and vertically and physically counter-slashed the falling Gus. With no-where to dodge through, Youthful Gus found himself widening his eyes and eating the loudly humming attack; the slice sent him sailing and spiralling through the air.

"Gus!" Stewart called on, terror filling his voice as he did so. Giving him very little time to follow up on his call however, Ludwig very quickly turned back 'round to face the wide-eyed youth before immediately shrieking as he plummeted his blade downward vertically. The horror-laced Stewart could only raise up his own great-sword and the two similarly crafted weapons clashed with one another noisily.

CLANG

Sparks emitted endlessly and fiercely between the pair; with both arms gripping his weapon, Stewart grunted continually as he shut one of his eyes from the sheer ferocity of Ludwig's arcane strength. The attack soon found itself overpowering him and Stewart gasped as the huge blade struck him across his body very lightly.

Though it was small in comparison to what it could have been, the pain was still immense.

Using its horse-like legs, Ludwig slammed the grunting Stewart across the face, sending him careering through the air, crashing into an underground corpse pile of its own making.

SQUELCH

Ludwig let loose another screech of pain, his attention regained once more; he snapped his aflame head around and narrowed his one good eye to find the scowling-faced Simon kneeling with his Bowblade equipped. Opting instead to utilise his projectiles in response, Ludwig shriek echoed throughout the chamber as he diagonally slashed at the air; the blade beam came sailing for the stone walls above the wide-eyed Simon.

Though he tried to quickstep to his right to avoid the falling rubble he was far too late.

CRASH

The former Healing Church executive hunter let loose a triumphant war-cry, his voice echoing chillingly throughout the battle arena.

~

"Stewart."

The named young man in kind widened his eyes for the umpteenth time, snapping his head upward. His eyes scanned the area he now stood in; a vast blackness that he recognised almost immediately, save for the classic prison he used for the Butcher.

His own consciousness.

But then that would mean-?

"Yes."

The voice that woke him back up forced him to turn very lightly to his left to find the imprisoned Byrgenwerth Butcher staring back at him in a similar leant standing position.

"You could very well be the only man alive out there now." The Butcher's voice echoed very firmly across the invisible walls, his eyes lightly narrowed.

"But-!"

"I know," the Butcher interrupted, again softly, his tone surprising the youth. "You wish not for these people to die, I realise that."

"So...?"

"So I offer my strength to you, free of charge."

Silence.

Stewart could only stare back at the deadly serious expressed Butcher before him, visibly shocked in response.

"W-What...?"

"There is no time to debate, little Stewart," the Butcher familiarly insulted as he leant his hat-wearing head to the side, eyes narrowing firmly. "The longer you idle here, the higher chance they both die."

"T-Thank you... Butcher," Stewart opted to smile in response however; it was the Butcher's turn to widen his eyes in surprise, even taking a step back in his prison. "But I can't."

"Why?!"

"I have to learn not to rely on anyone else's power anymore," the young hunter smiled as he shook his head softly in his words. "I can't keep leaving you to do the dirty work."

His words, sincere and honest, left a gaping hole in the Byrgenwerth Butcher's open mouth; he stared back at his other side, visibly shocked and unable to find a response back.

"If I can't help my friends with my own strength... then this whole thing is meaningless and, besides," the youth began in his smiling, light explanation. "I still owe you for saving me with Martyr Logarius!" Stewart finished in a boyish laugh, grinning widely at the strangely docile serial killer before him, his eyes briefly shut as he spoke. Resting his gloved left hand to rest behind his head as a show of an old habit, he relaxed his stance in his laugh, re-opening his eyes only to find the Butcher visibly avoiding the young man's eyesight, a hardened scowl on his features. "Thanks... Butcher!"

With those final words, the youth de-materialised out of the area, leaving the imprisoned serial killer on his lonesome. When he was certain he was left alone however, the Byrgenwerth Butcher's mouth very slowly upturned into a tiny little smile, one that not even Stewart would have caught were he still there.

"Do it Stewart."

–

5

Ludwig's horse-like hooves slammed the bloody ground noisily, echoing throughout the chamber as he advanced on the rubble-torn Simon, hidden under the debris. Raising up his Holy Moonlight Sword he extended forth a low growl before readying himself to finish his last student off, eyes narrowing down in finality.

CRASH

A young man's angry scream rent the air, resounding across the walls of the chamber as violently as the action that accompanied it; Ludwig snapped his main head around with his one widened eye to find the young Stewart standing amidst a ruined pile of corpses. Seemingly gathering a fierce portion of power, the youth's echoing war-scream was enough to shake the very foundations of the battle arena. The reddened corpses that he was once resting under were all blew apart violently from his sudden meteoric rise in strength, his clenched arms held both to his sides as he did.

Opting not to listen to him anymore, Ludwig growled once as he horizontally and then diagonally slashed two humming projectiles at the youth. Stewart's scream stopped short as soon as they grew close however and, with inhuman agility, the dream-sustained hunter literally ghosted through the arcane missiles. Ludwig could only widen his one good eye in watching, unable to believe it. The grunting and pained Gus pulled himself up from his earlier failed attack, blinking at the sight before him.

The hard-scowling Stewart was a sure spectre, sliding through the frantic projectiles Ludwig sent his way.

"I-Incredible!" The elderly warrior could only gasp out incredulously. "The technique of Sir Gehrman, the First Hunter!" He exclaimed out as he pulled himself up from the rubble and the corpses he lied on, widening his eyes forward. "The Art of Quickening!"

Ludwig screeched this time as the scowling Stewart grew ever closer, his panic showing; when he finally came within walking distance of the man-beast however, the former Church affiliated hunter gasped, turning his heads around in search for the missing youth. Unbeknownst to the poor creature however, the super-fast Stewart ghosted directly behind him.

CLINK

Ludwig gasped, about-turning both of his heads in reaction.

But it was far too late.

SQUELCH-CRACK

The scowling Stewart shoved his transformed Holy Blade directly into the beast's spine bone, visibly drawing blood and bone itself. Time slowed down for the pair and Ludwig could barely let loose a whimper of pain, knowing full well what was coming. Stewart soon followed up his attack by savagely running the great-sword through the screeching Ludwig's back and body, running great pain through his already mangled body. Eventually, the youth ran out of flesh to attack with and let loose a gradual-building battle-roar as he viciously tore the great-sword he carried diagonally out of the creature's body.

Ludwig let out a final and reverberating howl of agony as his mangled body safely imploded in a great show of white light and raining blood. Stewart's eyes narrowed as he forward-flipped, landing in a similarly safe skid ahead of himself; the youth about-turned his blood-covered body to stare back at his fallen opponent, his body leant to the side. He rested his large great-sword across his broad black-garbed shoulders, his free left arm clenched in a determined fist at his side.

"Well done... Stewart; prey slaughtered," the Butcher's voice echoed from within the youth's subconscious. "You truly want to help these people? To do something for them? For me?" The man's deeper accent reverberated on; the youth listened quietly as he stood. "Then do what you've always done."

Even as he stood in his silent scowl, Stewart merely listened quietly to the echoing words of his second side.

"Prove it to us... with your actions!" The Byrgenwerth Butcher called out enthusiastically from within his hardened prison, a grin in his words. "That's who you are!"


	17. Abominable Revelations

Chapter 17: Abominable Revelations; Digging the Veracity  
Chains of the Byrgenwerth Blasphemy Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Tusk" - Yakuza 0 OST. Scene 2 (First & Second Halves).  
"Where Dreams Die" - Ultimate Custom Night OST. Scene 3 (First Half).

\--

The party of two is growing very quickly; Stewart Forbes, hunter and apprentice to Gehrman, and Youthful Gus, waking hunter of Yharnam encounter a nameless bowman that attacks them in the middle of their adventure. Acting quickly, the pair manage to overpower him with exceptional teamwork and skill and soon discover the bowman's intentions; his name, Simon and his connections to the Healing Church as a former Templar knight.

Recruited by the legendary Church-affiliated hunter and cleric Ludwig, Simon was once a talented young man whom worked directly under the mythical figure. The trio all share information together however and soon discover that the area that they inhabit now is called the 'Hunter's Nightmare'. A separate plane of existence reserved only for those whose blood-drunkenness has evolved too far. Simon implies there are far more tantalising and horrifying secrets hidden within the Hunter's Nightmare however and enlists Youthful Gus and Stewart Forbes to help him uncover them.

In spite of his distrust toward his other side, the Byrgenwerth Butcher, Stewart and he seem to be coming to terms; though he offers the youth his incredible strength with no strings attached, Stewart politely declines in favour of doing his own 'dirty work'. Despite his seemingly superfluous need for the Byrgenwerth Butcher now he still opts to leave his second side amicably by, even tendering him his thanks for his assistance in the earlier crisis with Martyr Logarius.

A kind of uneasy friendship begins to blossom between Byrgenwerth's most notorious serial killer and the doe-eyed heir to Gehrman...

\--

Scene 1

"Are you all right Simon?"

In spite of the youth's caring tone in his words, the named former Templar groaned out as he pulled himself up from the wreckage of the former fight they were all engaged in. Simon shook his head and his body once to rid himself of the debris that collected around his already ragged clothes before soon raising his head and smiling up at the watching two before him. Stewart and Youthful Gus both exchanged a similarly satisfied smiling nod of acknowledgement before allowing the man room to breathe.

"I never thought we'd encounter my former mentor, the great Ludwig of the Healing Church." The bowman admitted as the three men turned to leave together, still marching around their former battle arena.

"You better be ready then; he's still alive." Gus merely replied with in a hardened frown forward, his eyes narrowed. Simon and Stewart both tensed up on reaction but soon calmed their senses when they realised what the older gentleman was referring to; tracing his stare they found the still moving main head of Ludwig lying on the bloody ground.

Stewart couldn't help but briefly shut his eyes and sigh out silently to himself in relief.

"Y-You... over there..."

Ludwig's voice.

Gus and Simon both nodded toward the youth, as if he were talking to him in particular. Stewart winced but acquiesced to the former man's request; he stepped forward and knelt down to the head's own level, frowning down at him.

"G-Good hunter of the church...," his voice echoed across the walls of the arena they resided in. Stewart's eyebrows lifted in light surprise as he mistook him for a Church-affiliated hunter, realising that the very Holy Blade he wielded must have been the cause. "Have you seen the light...? Are my church hunters the honourable spartans I hoped they would be...?"

Stewart winced, thankful that Ludwig could not see his visible reaction; the youth turned to his two companions standing to his right. They both shook their heads almost in tandem with one another, as if to dissuade him from telling lies. Turning his head back around, Stewart put on a light but forced smile, wan and sad and all.

"Yeah," Stewart nodded as he turned his soft smile down on his fallen opponent, resting his right arm across his raised right knee. His response managed to surprise the listening and watching pair of hunters beside him. "They were... good people." He finished in his similarly soft tone of voice.

"What is he doing?" Gus hissed out from his side, his eyes never leaving the pair below him, his arms folded and leaning his head to his left. "Surely he got our signal?"

"He's trying to comfort Master Ludwig in his last moments," Simon answered quietly and wisely, briefly shutting his eyes as he rested his right hand across his lowered face. "I don't think the truth really matters here, Sir Gus."

"Ahh, good... that is a relief," Ludwig's calmed and amicable voice murmured out in the dungeon-like arena. "To know I did not suffer such denigration for nothing... thank you, young hunter. Thank you kindly," Ludwig spoke, his beastly mouth curling lightly into a sad smile of his own. "Now I may sleep... in peace. Even in this darkest of nights, I see... the moonlight..." He trailed off in his contented smile, his voice echoing very softly across the walls of the chamber.

"Rest now... Sir Ludwig," Stewart similarly smiled out as he reached down to his left. Pulling up a steel-like great-sword that had fallen with its wielder, he grasped it tightly within his two free hands and turned to walk back towards his comrades, still smiling amicably. Gus and Simon exchanged a raised eyebrow with the youth before he smiled and shut his eyes, raising the great-sword up to the surprised-expressed Simon. "If anyone deserves this... it should be you."

His words, honest and sincere, shocked the watching Simon. The spectating Gus couldn't help but nod on in respect through his folded-armed smile.

"Agreed," the elderly warrior nodded. "You were his last apprentice after all."

"Th-Thank you...," Simon managed out in a stammering frown as he shakily took the great blade up from the youth's hands. Even as he inspected the worn steel he couldn't help but shut his eyes as he brought it up, resting toward his chest and his heart; a sign of bereavement. Gus and Stewart both exchanged their own pleased smiles, silent in their spectating. "He's... well and truly gone now, isn't he." Simon frowned out as he lowered the great-sword down with his free right hand, marching forward past his two companions.

"I'm sure he's in a better place now, Simon," Gus spoke over in his new frown, his arms still folded. "In spite of all the Healing Church's faults... I'm sure at his heart he was a good person."

Exactly how I feel, Stewart thought in an amiable nod, smiling as he did so.

"A tragic figure...," Simon lamented very quietly as he leaned down to kneel at the deceased Ludwig's own level. He raised his hands to pray forward, briefly shutting his eyes as he did. "You will shame yourself, no longer, Master Ludwig...," he whispered out, his eyes still shut. "You died with honour and ideals untarnished. You were a true hero... and earned that much at least," Simon murmured out in a show of respect before finally nodding a final time and giving a peculiar sign of the church before soon raising himself back to his feet. The former Templar put on a smile as he turned to face his two companions. "Shall we go on?"

~

"We shouldn't linger here gentlemen...," Simon advised as the three men marched through the next area; a literal dungeon of cramped proportions. They hadn't yet encountered any jailers or such but, true to Simon's word, it was an oppressive area. "This place can be-"

"Shrouded by night, but with steady stride..."

The trio gasped, snapping their heads around behind themselves; the voice that interrupted them came from the back of the room, seemingly behind the last door.

"Coloured by blood, but always clear of mind... proud hunter of the Church... beasts are a curse and a curse is a shackle..." The man's tenor voice echoed on out throughout the chamber. A light knocking sound, as if meat being slapped against a chopping board accompanied his voice periodically. Stewart narrowed his eyes and followed the voice's murmurings, marching on after it.

"Stewart!" Gus' voice hissed on after him but the youth did not listen; he merely stepped toward the man's cell, eyes narrowed. As he expected a nameless man stood inside, knocking his head against the very stone wall he stood around, his back to him.

"Only ye are the true blades of the Church."

His final words, seemingly repeated on and on with the knocking of his head, gave one final echoing finality to them. Stewart's eyes caught the reddening of the stone wall he used to knock his head with, spying the blood that had gathered.

How long had he been in there for?

"Stewart..."

Simon's voice.

The dreaming youth about-turned to find his two companions shaking their heads disapprovingly at him.

"I'm afraid I agree with Sir Gus; come." The former Templar frowned on out as he nodded his head back the way he came, indicating to move on. Stewart nodded softly in agreement before following. As if to mock the three however, an echoing and surprisingly loud sounding bell reverberated across the walls of the dungeon they all stood in. The three hunters stopped moving in response to the sound of the bell, eyes narrowing down at the source; an open cell to a long descending staircase down to their right.

"What was that?" Gus whispered out, narrowing his eyes down at the darkness below them.

"I'm not sure we want to find out...," Simon shook his head, similarly disapprovingly before nodding his head forward. "We should move on."

Gus, agreeing with his companion, stepped forward on with him, leaving for the ascending staircase ahead of them. Stewart stayed to stare silently down at the staircase below him, eyes narrowing.

There was someone down there, he thought.

"Stewart!"

Simon's voice again.

Giving the darkness a last lingering look, he followed his companions and tore his gaze away from it.

When he joined his two companions, the young man found himself turning his eyes around the large area they now stood in. Behind them lay a darkened alcove. In front of their current position lay many beds and as Stewart narrowed his eyes to examine the area, the youth stepped over to loom his shadow down at the ill person lying in bed. His eyes traced the strange devices hooked up to the poor civilian, noting their horrible condition. Raising his head he narrowed his eyes up at the many beds sharing similar injured persons, all one after the other, perhaps around six of them.

"These poor people...," Stewart murmured out as he scanned his vision around the room in quiet lament. "What happened to them?"

"This is what I meant... when I said these secrets could be particularly unseemly..." Simon spoke up as he joined his younger friend, frowning down at the unfortunate victim below him.

"Stewart, Simon!"

Gus' voice; a whispering and warning hiss. The named two turned to travel toward their companion, eyes tracing his. Ahead of their current position and hiding up at the end of the large hospital-like area sat a white-robed figure, kneeling in seeming prayer. Stewart and Simon both exchanged similarly curious looks but strained their ears to listen to her prayer.

"Remain wary of the frailty of men... their wills are weak and their minds young."

I know that prayer, Stewart thought to himself as his eyebrows lifted in recognition.

Wasn't Vicar Amelia reciting this prayer in the Cathedral Ward?

"Yharnam... seems like a million miles away."

His silent thoughts were soon interrupted however when a contrastingly black-garbed woman stepped out from the shadows and the hidden right side of the arena. Stewart's senses tensed up, his brow furrowing firmly as he faced his new foe. His eyes snapped between her however and the other figure – also seemingly a woman – praying at the altar before them. As if caught on by her comrade's movement, the white-robed woman slowly stood to her feet, about-turning to face the group of three men.

Silence.

As if they were cowboys in the wild west, the group of five combatants all stared their enemy parties' down wordlessly, fingers twitching badly for their weapons. The white-robed woman seemed to carry a Threaded Cane of all weapons whereas the black-garbed woman instead carried an instrument that Stewart knew only too well.

Ludwig's Holy Blade.

Stewart's right hand hovered very slowly up to the sheath holding his longsword variant on his back, eyes narrowing as he marched similarly gradually forward. Taking his lead, the similarly squinting eyed Gus and Simon followed with leisurely strolls at his side, Gus reaching for his Whirligig Saw and Simon for his new strange and seemingly steel Holy Moonlight Sword. Pursuing the three men's actions, the two Church-affiliated women very steadily stepped forth aside one another, spinning their weapons around their hands expertly.

As if two rival gangs glaring at one another, the two parties of warriors merely continued to advance on one another, eyes narrowed as they did so. Finally within range however, the white-robed woman moved first; raising her free left arm to her similarly left eye she widened it. Stewart's own eyebrows lifted, attempting to recognise the Arcane attack forming from her eye. When he at last realised it was a projectile however, he held back from gasping and quickstepped to his right, far from his companion Gus.

"Scatter!"

–

2

His word of advice echoed throughout the large hospital-like area; Youthful Gus and Simon the Harrowed both followed his counsel and with it, they swiftly shot to the centre and the left of the arena respectively.

CLANG

Stewart grunted as he spun around in his quickstep; his smaller longsword clashed loudly against the black-hatted woman's larger great-sword. A similarly small bead of sweat dropped from his forehead before he sunk his left foot into her gut; she gasped and allowed him room to breathe. Utilising the opportunity, the youth spun around with his own great-sword, affixing his smaller weapon to the sheath.

CLINK

Spinning around in a wide and high horizontal slash attack, Stewart's newly formed great-sword slammed into the nameless woman's. The steel with which they carried sung against one another noisily; time slowed down for the pair as they did however. Stewart glared at his enemy as he leapt to his left, both hands gripping his horizontally slashing weapon. The church-garbed woman held her own Holy Blade in a different stance however; she held it upwards and diagonally, the hilt closer to her face than any of the rest of it. When time finally regained its flow, Stewart's eyes widened as he skid across the hard cement ground beneath him, narrowly avoiding the flying Arcane projectile that came sailing directly for him.

Thank god it was linear, he thought to himself.

Meanwhile in the projectile's original direction, the narrow-eyed Gus and firm-frowning Simon both teamed together to face-down the projectile throwing white-robed woman. Soon finding herself being fast-approached at both corners, the nameless woman pulled out a long Threaded Cane and transformed it to its whip state.

"Split up!" Youthful Gus wisely advised loudly so his compatriot could hear him without question. The pair of waking Yharnam hunters quickstepped to the white-robed woman's two far sides, readying their weapons. Gus wasted no time in getting started, the well-experienced warrior wielded his newly transformed Whirligig Saw and pressed forward with it, spinning the blades as he advanced on her menacingly.

In the woman's other direction, the narrow-eyed Simon ran his free left hand across the dull-looking great-sword he carried, soon embalming it with ancient Arcane energy. Pressing forward with his next attack, the former Healing Church operative pulled the newly glowing emerald great-sword back before pushing it onward, eyes narrowed. As if by magic, a mint-green projectile shot forth from the blade diagonally at its target; the nameless white-robed huntress bent her body similarly crosswise to avoid the blow. Even as she did so however, the woman's eyes widened silently as she caught the sight of the charging Youthful Gus to her undefended side. Pursuing to react in kind, the nameless fighter similarly spun her sword-like whip around in an attempt to match his strength.

However...

It was unfortunately not to be.

SKRR-CLANG-CRASH

Along with the deafening sound the two blades made when they met together, the Threaded Cane she wielded easily buckled under the fearsome Whirligig Saw's power. Wielding simply too much force to be dealt with, the poor cane crumbled and broke apart in her gasping grasp, leaving her wide-eyed and defenceless. As if to react to his comrade's teamwork, the watching Simon narrowed his eyes forward and spun around similarly as he sent forth yet another projectile.

And this time, it struck true.

The mint-green bullet sailed toward her and collided with her form fiercely, sending her careering across into one of the patient's hooked up beds.

CRASH-SMASH

The gasping Simon and Gus both finally dropped to their knees, their energy seemingly spent. Unwilling to stalk toward the wreckage they had caused they instead turned to go assist their still-engaged younger comrade.

~

Stewart grunted as he spun around dizzily, eyes kept on his object of offence; his black-garbed opponent countered his similar sword slashes with her own shortened Holy Blade. The two holy steel blades sung against one another in a deafening, cacophonous echo. The young Byrgenwerth native found himself exchanging his hard-eyed glare with the similarly speedy woman, hateful and all.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG

The blare of their swords reverberated loudly across the walls of the recuperation hall as they duelled fiercely, leaving intense senses of sparks in their wake. Unfortunately for the younger fighter however, the unknown woman managed to finally catch him off guard with her own swordsmanship; as she blocked one of his many spinning slashes, she swept the legs as quickly as she guarded his attack. Stewart's eyes expanded immediately, terror gripping his heart as he was outplayed; though he stumbled to his left he managed to very impressively avoid her next yelling and diagonal cut by bending his body to an incredible length.

SKRR

The nameless Healing Church-affiliated woman widened her eyes as she also caught the deafeningly loud sound of the rapidly-approaching saw to her left. She grunted once as she used the stable ground beneath her to somersault backward off of, eyes soon narrowing as she did. Recovering very quickly she spun her small-sword around before audibly gasping loudly, her eyes expanding for the second time.

In spite of his earlier charge toward her, Youthful Gus merely pressed on, his rapid footsteps like lightning itself, his Whirligig Saw scraping the air ravenously.

"Tch!" She managed out in a narrow-eyed scowl, unable to move in time to avoid it; the woman slammed her sword into her sheath to form the rest of Ludwig's Holy Blade. Shooting it down diagonally to block she shut one of her eyes in a show of effort as the two clashed noisily.

SKRR-CLANG

Countless flares flew from the fiery fighter's respective weapons; as Gus' saw's teeth mashed fiercely against her great-sword, neither saw the other backing down. As if acting on the opportunity the older warrior had created, the on-watching shot one final humming projectile from his own great-sword, a yell of veritable effort on his lips. Acting quickly, the huffing Stewart side-flipped up acrobatically and landed on the mint-green coloured arcane attack, landing surprisingly safely on top of it. As Gus turned his eyes to his right side, the woman he was engaged with found herself tracing her own eyes in its direction and her inevitably grew.

Oh no, she thought.

Acting similarly swiftly, Gus grunted once as he forcefully broke the hold he himself had created by pushing her back a step; he soon shot his body out of the projectile's way, diving to his sharp left in evasion. The kneeling Stewart raised his head up to grin forward at the horrified-faced nameless woman before him, sticking his sword into the sheath hanging on his back. The youth pulled his huge weapon back expectantly and the nameless Healing Church warrior could barely recover in time, her body still aching from Gus' earlier attack.

Stewart athletically back-flipped as the missile he rode in on finally clashed with her great-sword; she yelled in jarring effort to block it fruitlessly and watched as her weapon spun hopelessly out of her grip. She found herself turning her eyes back down to stare up at her somersaulting enemy; the grinning Stewart brought his transformed Holy Blade skyward with both arms, ready for descent. The nameless woman could only widen her eyes, unable to move in time once again.

She could not even utter a pained choke when the blade came back down to greet her.

–

3

"Has someone, anyone, seen my eyes?"

Stewart, Gus and Simon all stiffened, turning their eyes to watch the standing patient, overlooking a foot-shallow puddle he stood in. His head was incredibly mangled and no appendages on its oversized mass to match.

"I'm afraid I've dropped them in a puddle..." The man's light voice managed out as he reached down to paw mindlessly through the strange water below. He wore a soft-white robe, seeming to indicate his attachment to the hospital-like area. When the watching Gus and Stewart exchanged their curious look with the similarly spectating Simon, he shook his head disapprovingly and in a frown to let them know the situation silently. The three opted to move on up through the ascending staircase, mowing down the other hostile patients that stalked them mercilessly.

Soon however, in their exploration, the joined three men found themselves in a barely lit hallway, descending down a ladder to access it. First Stewart cascaded down in an effort to ensure the area was safe; when he brought out his Hunter's Torch, he narrowed his eyes as he raised it up in searching. Row after row in the area was filled with the same instruments they had seen in the earlier room, hooked up to beds carrying the same patients. The sound of their echoing cries reverberated across the walls of the area he stood in.

"... Kill me... please, just kill me..."

His attention successfully garnered, Stewart turned his eye to his lower left to find the owner of the voice, seemingly a man, leaning forward in a bent position on the bed before him. He grasped at what remained of his mangled head, his voice full of pain and suffering.

"Free me from this place... before I go mad..."

The grunting Gus and Simon both finally joined their companion, frowning with him as they turned their own heads in searching. Stewart narrowed his eyes and tore his gaze from the first infected patient and began to advance very slowly forward, turning his vision through the room to examine it.

"Ahh, someone help me..."

A woman's voice, he thought.

Turning his inspection on lightly flailing form, he found her lying on her side, gripping her head as similarly as the last patient.

"I am guilty, I know. But I won't do it again, I promise," she pleaded with no-one in particular, still struggling mindlessly on the bed she lay on. Stewart couldn't help but gaze at her in a strange mix of melancholy and curiosity. "The damp darkness... it frightens me...," the nameless patient managed out in a whispering hiss. "And what rises from its very depths..."

Her gasping soon escalated into full-blown screaming and Stewart could only wince as he listened.

Simon and Gus both stepped toward the man opposite their comrade and frowned their own torches down at him wordlessly, awaiting his own words.

"Ahh, Lady Maria, Lady Maria...," the similarly nameless patient moaned out in seeming pain, struggling in a face-up position on the bed he also lay on. "Please... take my hand... please...," he begged sadly; his attention re-gained, Stewart turned his hat-wearing head around, his long-brown hair whipping in his movement as he did so, narrowing his eyes at the name he mentioned. "Help me... don't let me drown..."

Exchanging wordless nods together, the three men opted not to disturb the place any longer, turning to leave quietly. Finally, after leaving however, the trio of hunters opened their mouths to begin speaking.

"A lot of these patients... they all mention this woman's name," Gus began the conversation with, frowning in his brow-furrowed expression. "Lady Maria is it?"

"I know that name," Stewart agreed with his older comrade in a similarly frowning nod. "Wasn't she one of Gehrman-sensei's apprentices?"

"Not a pretty sight... is it?"

Simon's voice; the pair of men turned their heads to listen to him speak. The former Healing Church Templar glared back into the darkened room they just came out of, his hand ever raised to near cover his face; an old habit.

"The true face of the blood-worshipping, beast-purging Healing Church," the bowman hissed out lowly as he glared into the room before him, directing his words at the poor moaning patients they left behind. "I believe their Lady Maria is still in this Hunter's Nightmare." He finally claimed, re-turning his frowning head to face his wide-eyed pair of friends.

"You truly think so...?"

"It would make sense...," Stewart nodded along in his own frown, turning his reply up to the folded-armed Gus next to him. "We've encountered Laurence and Ludwig thus far... Lady Maria was also said to have her achievements hailed in the Healing Church."

"Yes...," Simon agreed in his low frown. "She, like the rest of the Church, will not be happy to see us. She will hide these secrets from us," he explained very briefly; the listening pair of men merely watched him in silence. "We must kill her, just as we have Master Ludwig and climb her Astral Clocktower; only she is hiding the real secret..."

~

Stepping forward, Stewart spun the key up he managed to procure through their exploration into the air. Catching it in the same right hand, he narrowed his eyes down at it and stared directly ahead at the huge double doors the trio of men stood at.

In here she must be resting, he thought.

The one of legendary status; said to be the greatest hunter Yharnam has ever seen, short of Gehrman himself.

Lady Maria.

Narrowing his eyes forward, Stewart forced the key in through the slot and turned it. As if on reaction a loud bell sounded across the area echoing; Gus and Simon tensed up but nothing else seemed to be certain of their location. Undaunted, Stewart reached forward and pushed apart the large double-doors before him, eyes narrowing as he did so. When the doors were finally parted, the three all marched in slowly, ascending the small staircase to view the scene before them.

A badly floor-boarded arena lay ahead and directly centred and forward to their position was the inside of the clock-face they stood inside.

They were definitely inside the clocktower now, he thought.

Stewart's examining eyes soon caught the sight of a lone seat and a small table placed next to it. As the three gradually approached, fingers twitching for their weapons, they watched it grow closer. As it did however, they managed to piece together the scene before them; a corpse lay in the chair, blood pooling around it suspiciously. When they came within range, they soon found their approach lacking and merely stood to watch.

Stewart instead, however, pressed on.

"Stewart!" Gus' warning hiss came from the back.

But he did not listen.

The brazen youth narrowed his eyes down at the table next to the corpse; he caught the sight of a single goblet and a shattered photo still in its frame. Examining it he shook his head very lightly, unable to decipher anything from it. His eyes inevitably turned to watch the slumping form of the white-haired corpse in the seat and soon found himself narrowing his eyes down at the cadaver.

Long and white-haired; unmistakeably a woman.

He couldn't help but see the Plain Doll's image elucidated onto her face.

How strange, he thought.

Growing bold, the youth reached forward and set his nerves up in a slow contact.

GRAB

Stewart held back from gasping, his eyes widening in a mix of horror and shock; the corpse came alive and the seemingly dead arm it commanded grasped his right, pulling him in. In spite of Gascoigne's long hat that he wore, Stewart soon found himself eye-to-eye with the scowling woman below him. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Simon and Gus moving to action, as if also activated by her sudden movement.

"A corpse...," she began lowly and, this time, Stewart gasped in recognition of her accent and very voice itself. "Should be left well alone."

With no malice in her strong and firm grip, she left go of him softly; Stewart's eyes narrowed as he backed away a step or two, watching her carefully rise out of her chair. The similar-faced Gus and Simon approached from the back, reaching for their respective weapons.

"Oh, I know very well. How the secrets beckon so sweetly...," she murmured out, her foreign voice resounding across the walls of the seeming battle arena they stood in. As she spoke, she reached back for her own weapon; a peculiar looking kind of longsword. "Only an honest death... will cure you now," she claimed menacingly as she stared back at the wide-eyed Stewart, advancing on him very slowly and controlled. She rose her longsword up, the Rakuyo, before soon parting it into two portions.

CLANG

It gave off a loud echoing shout, dividing from its twin-blade form into a dual-wielded sabre and dagger. Her next words, so soft yet so firm, bounced off the walls of the arena as she glared in half-recognition and half-resentment, her quiet hatred focused on the former Byrgenwerth Butcher.

"Liberate you, from your wild curiosity..."


	18. Apprentices Clash; First Generation VS Fourth

Chapter 18: Apprentices Clash; First Generation VS. Fourth  
Chains of the Byrgenwerth Blasphemy Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 1 (First & Second Halves).  
"Hatred Incarnate" - Asura's Wrath OST. Scene 2 (First & Second Halves)

\--

Stewart Forbes, Youthful Gus and Simon the Harrowed have all formed a three-man party and, in their party, they all agree to explore the rest of this Hunter's Nightmare. In their adventure, they seek clues and answers that the Healing Church hide from them; thus far, the faithful group of warriors have managed to encounter such names as Laurence, the First Vicar and Ludwig, the Holy Blade. In his push through the Nightmare, Stewart has discovered the left behind victims of a research hall the Healing Church had seemingly created. These people lie in utter agony, crying out for assistance, their bodies and heads deformed beyond all reason.

In their investigation of these poor victims however, they discover one common factor they all share; a single name that they never fail to mention.

'Lady Maria'.

A woman said to be the greatest hunter in the world, save for her mentor, the great Gehrman. Revered for her strength, charisma and benevolence Lady Maria was said to be a model for all hunters of Yharnam to look up to. It is only in their search however that does Stewart slowly realise...

Just as Laurence and Ludwig, two Healing Church regulars, Lady Maria awaits the group of three men. She stands at the final edge, barring their paths to the horrifying secret with which they seek.

Stewart dares to hope for more than defeat as he faces his greatest challenge yet; Gehrman's greatest pupil...

\--

Scene 1

The white-haired woman watched the wary hunters that similarly spectated her suave stride; Maria's eyes shot over between each man standing before her, holding her Rakuyo in its transformed state. She fingered both her sabre and dagger as she advanced slowly forward, eliciting the watching three to back away in kind.

Stewart stood staring back, his left hand clenched determinedly at his side and his Holy Blade untransformed. Simon and Gus opted not to underestimate their enemy however, their Bowblade and Whirligig Saw both transformed and ready.

"I say we attack her now while she's still docile!" Gus whispered out urgently toward his companion on his right, the frowning Simon. "We can overpower her; there are three of us!"

"This isn't just an everyday hunter, Sir Gus," Simon likewise breathed quietly, never tearing his eyes from his slow-marching opponent. "She knows just how to deal with numbers..."

"So then what do you suggest?"

"You and Stewart are our strongest force; keep her detained while I provide support fire," the bowman claimed as he narrowed his eyes forward. "I feel the only way we will be able to beat her is through a head on fundamental fight of wills and power."

The silent Stewart kept his own eyes on the marching Maria, his companions' words floating in and out of his ears resoundingly. He could only narrow his right eye half-curiously when he caught her hateful glare directed clearly at him. A kind of silent conversation began between the pair.

She definitely recognised him.

But from where?

"It is I she recognises Stewart."

The youth's eyes expanded immediately upon hearing the refined accent echo from deep within his mind.

The Byrgenwerth Butcher.

"Of all the people at Byrgenwerth Royal, she and Sensei Willem are the only two I could not fool and yet she could do nothing to stop me," his voice continued on quietly but firmly. "I imagine she despises me for this reason."

Great, Stewart thought to himself in a comically deadpan-like frown.

More hell to deal with.

Interrupting his thoughts however, the narrow-eyed woman suddenly ghosted forward, disappearing in pure grey smoke.

Stewart's eyebrows lifted up in light surprise before quickly and silently recognising the technique as Gehrman's Art of Quickening. He barely heard Gus' urgent exclamation above the deafening din their colliding weapons made.

"Get out of there Stewart!"

CLANG

The named youth in question gave out a grunt of effort as he back-dashed into the air, raising his sword up to block her inevitable charging slash attack. Utilising her free dagger in her left hand however, she shot it forward to the boy's undefended left side, eliciting a wide-eyed gasp from him in response. Before he could break the hold manually and dodge to his right however, a Quicksilver Arrow shot from the ever-helpful Simon in the back.

The narrow-eyed Maria ghosted backward once more, this time in evasion, easily dodging the arrow.

Stewart was given a few seconds to collect himself; he gasped out in gained effort as he watched his opponent slowly resume her march, seemingly toward him. However when she came within range a second time she suddenly smoked past the youth, surprising all three of the watching fighters.

"What the-?"

Stewart's urgent contemplations were soon interrupted however when he snapped his head to his far-right to find her targeting the wide-eyed Simon.

Oh no.

Thinking quickly Simon re-transformed his Bowblade into its sword form and gasped as he similarly back-dashed into the air; Maria followed him with a narrow-eyed frown, her eyes set on her prize. She clashed her two weapons with the gasping bowman's own single sword, visibly pressuring him; when he could barely find a word to respond with let alone an action, the similarly furrow-faced Gus charged forward from her undefended right side. When she heard the noisy-sounding saw whirr away threateningly her eyes, and her current victim's, snapped to their respective sides as if in response.

Re-narrowing her eyes, the skilful Maria merely manually broke her own hold on the gasping Simon, opting to quickstep forward in a swift spectre diagonally-forward to her left. Though the frowning Simon was thankful for the space he was re-given he suddenly widened his eyes when he realised the gasping Gus could not stop his attack. Acting hastily, Stewart let out a built up yell of effort as he quickstepped forward to intervene; he let out a loud battle-cry as he swiped his newly transformed Holy Blade widely across the air. The great-sword slammed across the Whirligig Saw jarringly and forced the gasping Gus back safely, avoiding any mishap.

Simon and Gus couldn't help but breathe out a similar sounding sigh of relief however the gasping Stewart was left wide open and Maria did not let the opportunity slip by. She ghosted toward him, eyes glaring and face scowling hatefully; Stewart shot his wide-eyed frown up to meet hers, unable to move in time to recover from his earlier action.

"No, Stewart!"

Simon's call came too late; Maria growled as she pressed her sabre forward, visibly stabbing through his revealed lower stomach. Time seemed to slow down for the pair and as the younger hunter lay forward, coughing blood over her shoulder, she yanked her sabre back out. The flow of time soon returned to normal as she let him stagger backward a few steps before soon turning her body around in a wide roundhouse kick.

SLAM

The grunting and shut-eyed Stewart sailed savagely through the air before finally crashing noisily into the clocktower's wall behind him, bringing down debris to cover his fallen body.

Reticence pervaded the battle arena and, the wide-eyed pair of hunters left on the battlefield exchanged a worried look, the scowling Maria slowly about-turned to re-face her enemies, fingering her weapons hungrily. The hard-eyed huntress glared at the pair of wary warriors before her, soon taking her first menacing steps toward them.

~

"What do we do now?" Gus managed to hiss out as he held his mace and saw forward threateningly yet took wary steps back from the slow-marching form of Maria.

"I'm sure he's fine;we should be more worried about ourselves Sir Gus," Simon advised his companion, taking similar steps backward in his narrow-eyed frown. He held onto the sword form of his Bowblade, eyes never leaving his opponent. "This opponent... isn't one to be taken lightly..."

As if acting on his very words, the narrow-eyed Maria shot forward with use of her Quickening ability; with great agility she phased in and out of the wide-eyed Simon's view. Gus yelled as he shot his spinning saw forward in a wild attempt to catch her but he merely caught air; he let out an annoyed tut in response. The nimble-footed Maria ghosted back and, seemingly already acting on the wide-eyed Gus' recovery, pulled both her weapons back to her far shoulder left. The elderly warrior already knew what she was planning but, for him, it was far too late in his long recovery.

"No, Gus!"

SLASH-SQUELCH

The named waking hunter of Yharnam let out a prolonged pained yell as he was struck by her powerful diagonal hack. The strength behind her aggression forced the wounded Gus flying through the air, rolling across the badly floor-boarded arena. Following up her attack, she pursued him in a deft low sprint forward, eliciting the watching Simon to quickly transform his Bowblade back into its longbow. Pulling back a Quicksilver arrow he grunted as he shot it in the direction she clearly travelled in; Maria very skilfully tossed her free dagger forward to attack the still mending Gus before immediately twisting in place and using the rest of her Rakuyo to spin-slash.

CLANG

Simon could only watch in wide-eyed horror as his well-aimed arrow was broken in half by the woman's expertly timed counter. Maria opted merely to stare back intensely and challengingly at the terror-laced faced Simon; the poor archer could barely stop his arms, once so steady, from shaking terribly. Her similarly wide-eyed but furrow-brow face seemed to almost speak to him silently.

What now? It said.

Meanwhile the grunting Gus used his free left arm to push off the ground in an acrobatic side-roll through the air, turning his body so that he landed down to face forward on his knees. He shot his bloody-faced head up in a low scowl and his eyebrows lifted in surprise when he caught sight of a spinning dagger chasing after him in mid-air. The elderly warrior shot up his Whirligig Saw and roared with scowling effort as he sent his weapon forward.

TINK

The dagger collided with the heavy serrated saw and went sailing back the way it came; though Youthful Gus chased after it and its owner, he dove into his pockets and stabbed his right leg with a blood vial. He let the usual feeling of euphoria wash over him, adrenaline replacing the great pain he once felt not moments before. Similarly chasing after him however was the narrow-eyed face of Maria; she kept her body low and eagerly grabbed her air-spiralling dagger. When the two finally came within range, Gus instead opted for a more indirect form of attack; the older hunter put on a low grin as he started his saw up, turning it to his right as he did so.

The Whirligig Saw sung out noisily, tearing away at the air ravenously in search of its next victim. As he had seemingly predicted, the slit-eyed Maria smoked over to the right. Her eyes widened this time however when she did; she immediately joined her sabre and dagger to form the full-bladed Rakuyo and clashed together with the scowling Gus.

SKRR-CLANG

The pair stood glaring at one another wordlessly for what felt like an eternity, sparks and steel flashing between them both intensely. Finally acting with her free left hand however, Maria shot up her Hunter's Pistol, eyes narrowing. Gus' own eyes conversely widened and, with both of his arms stuck wielding his saw he found no options to evade the incoming shot.

BANG

The waking hunter could only let out a low cough of blood as he sagged his upper body forward, his lower body drooping in the opposite direction. She raised up her conjoined Rakuyo to finish the job but, even as she did, her eyes widened as they caught a mint-green shade to her sharp-right. The seemingly deceased young woman cancelled her attack before phasing her body skilfully through the rapid-approaching projectile. In the missile's direction stood the narrow-eyed face of Simon, the Harrowed.

Brandishing a new weapon from before, his Holy Moonlight Sword, the thin man glared back at his enemy, hanging the emerald coloured great-sword across his small shoulders. Maria stood staring at him for a second before turning briefly to watch the grunting Gus fall to the ground from her earlier gunshot, seemingly either dead or unconscious. Turning back to peer at the similarly hard-gawking Simon, the atmosphere grew tense as they stared silently and challengingly.

Finally acting first once more, the glowering Maria unpaired her Rakuyo a second time, holding the sabre and dagger to her two far sides. The young woman widened her eyes and, with great effort, she shot her swords sailing deep into her chest, drawing much blood from the self-inflicted wound.

"What is she doing?" Simon pondered silently to himself as he spectated silently, his mouth hung lightly open. He didn't have much time to finish his thoughts however for, just as he finished, she did as well; the first apprentice to Gehrman yelled with effort for the first time since the fight began as she tore her sabre and dagger savagely from her wound. In response, a great show and sea of blood sailed into the air like a rainbow across the air. The ground shook fiercely as she did, eliciting the gasping Simon to wince and affix his footing. When she pulled her weapons back however, he noted with widened eyes that they had enlarged in size along with a peculiar crimson-coloured aura encapsulating the top of her body.

The newly empowered Maria glared wordlessly back at the worrying Simon before stepping forward and raising her right sabre up horizontally. He watched it expectantly, his nerves tensing. Finally she acted but in shocking agility and speed; the young woman almost literally glided across the floorboards of the clocktower, slashing at the air in which the wide-eyed Simon stood in. The former Healing Church Templar gasped as he quickstepped backward in evasion, barely avoiding the notably lengthened range of the attack. As she sliced the stratosphere strikingly, Simon noticed a blood-like aura following the incredible strength of her attack; he couldn't help but gulping down a load of saliva nervously.

I can't take one of those clean or I'm dead, he thought.

More importantly, is Gus dead?

And where the hell is Stewart?!

Not allowing him any more time to ruminate, Maria narrowed her eyes threateningly before shooting her dual-swords forward in a stabbing attempt. Simon grunted as he brought up his great-sword up diagonally to block the attack. The two clanged loudly and Simon's face crunched up as he felt the absurd force with which she carried her advance. With respectable strength of his own however, the former member of the Healing Church yelled with effort as he forced her wide-eyed form back before grunting once as he spun into a single counter-attacking projectile swing.

The young woman growled once as the projectile struck her, successfully wounding her. Simon couldn't help but turn his tired frown into a light grin, his spirits lifted from his great accomplishment however it was short-lived. Maria shot her two swords directly above her crown, eyes narrowed forward; Simon stared back in widened eyes, unsure in her options with being so far away. When he saw her widen her own eyes and take a single step forward however, he suddenly realised her intentions.

SMASH

As she slammed her swords down with amazing strength and speed, her extended range with her blood-style of attack easily flew for his position. Simon gasped audibly before frantically quickstepping in evasion to his left side, just barely avoiding the well-timed attack. When he turned his eyes back on her own position however he couldn't help but grow concerned.

Where in the name of god was she?!

RUMBLE

Oh no, he thought.

Simon snapped his head behind him only to find a huge spiral of smoke where she once presumably stood. His eyes shot skyward only to find her very briefly hanging in the air, both her swords held backward to attack with. His terror grew to space-like heights when he realised the strength with which she commanded; the similarly wide-eyed Maria wildly twisted down toward him, as if fired from a very cannon itself.

SMASH-CRASH

Though he attempted to quickstep to his left, Maria's mark was true and as she landed her dual-swords to his body, time slowed down the pair. Blood from her weapons and aura shot up in an incredible fountain, slowly rising as Gehrman's first apprentice scowled directly at the wide-eyed and pained form of her enemy. Otherworldly physical agony streamed throughout Simon's body and yet, no real cut was seemingly made on him; with a single, anguished gasp Simon found himself sagging backwards, fainting from the sheer power with which she hit him.

Silence plummeted down upon the area as time regained its flow; Maria's circular fountain of blood soon also descended as she calmly advanced upon the shut-eyed Simon. She stared down at him as wordlessly as she had done all day before gradually raising her buffed Rakuyo skyward with which to finish her opponent off.

–

2

"Wake UP!"

DROOM

Maria audibly gasped through her nose, raising her eyebrows upon the cacophonous interruption echoing through the area. Turning to its source, she found the debris with which her first enemy had earlier been knocked into had been blown away with an intense raise in power. Narrowing her eyes at the source of that power she found the deafeningly roaring Stewart standing with his two clenched arms at both his sides. Similarly, an intense blood-like aura encapsulated him and the ground shook violently in response to his commanding raise in strength.

Seemingly having reacted to the Byrgenwerth Butcher's demand, Stewart finally opted to move; with a sudden burst in acceleration, the fourth apprentice to Gehrman gave vent to his next roaring battle-cry as he set his eyes directly on the scowling Maria, chasing after her. The ground shook terribly from the force he commanded and, acting in kind, the glaring Maria gradually opened her mouth as she stalked on toward him, beginning a battle-cry of her own. Eventually she found herself pursuing the similarly scowling-faced Stewart; as he yanked his silver great-sword out hungrily she readied her Rakuyo with which to counter him with.

CLANG-CLASH

With inhuman agility and power, the first and fourth students to Gehrman spun around wildly, blood-like auras weaving in and out of their earth-shattering attacks. Grunting from the pain of the gunshot wound he suffered earlier, Youthful Gus dragged his body up to rest on his right elbow, using his left arm to grasp at his wound painfully. His eyes widened when he caught the super-fast forms of the scowling, grit-toothed Stewart and similarly grimacing Maria, twisting and smoking endlessly around the battle arena. His eyes darted around the clocktower, unable to follow the sheer lightning speed with which they both commanded; a huge number of crimson streaks flew through the air both belonging to the insurmountably strong pair of hunters.

"Come on, Stewart...," Gus managed out in a low hiss, eyes narrowing. He gasped from the sudden jolt of pain he received, gripping his wound and shutting a single eye as he did so. "Come on."

As if reacting to his inaudible cheering, Stewart finally seemed to get the better of his older opponent; clanging his great-sword loudly against her two Rakuyo blades, he forced her staggering a single step back.

It was all he needed.

Pressing on his previous success, Stewart shot his left knee through her lower chest, visibly and audibly winding her; following up he yelled with effort as he widely slashed at her horizontally with his transformed Holy Blade. Maria could barely gasp as she was finally struck by the weapon, spinning through the air in a terribly wounded wince. Stewart stood in a hard-eyed huffing glare, his left arm clenched at his side and his great-sword wielded in his right. He watched her lie on the floorboards of the clocktower, narrowing his eyes in uncertainty.

Finally reacting to his earlier attack however, Maria's body floated up gradually and lifelessly; Stewart's eyebrows lifted up in light surprise as he watched on. First, as she rose slowly skyward, the blood from her attacks earlier seemed to almost syphon up to meet her very body. Secondly, her head and arms rose up vertically and horizontally with the rest of her body. A very brief period of silence descended down upon the two monsters of power when the last of her blood disappeared into her body before, finally, her eyes shot back wide open to glare down at him wordlessly.

BLAST

As if reacting to her movements, the blood that once flew silently her way soon gave vent to an incredible explosion much like the last one. Before him however, she surprised him a third time; her form vanished and his eyes widened. Effectively tracing her through his arcane knowledge however, Stewart's eyes darted to his far-right and he ghosted to his top-right, turning his body around to view the glaring-faced Maria double-slash at him with her Rakuyo. As she did, a long cross-formation fire coated her already bloody blades, effectively extending her range and strength.

If I take one of those clean, he thought, I'm a goner.

Can't give her an inch!

Thinking quickly, the youth grunted as he clinked his silver sword out of the great-sword he carried, resting the sheath on his back, opting for speed. Maria watched him carefully for what felt like a full second before pulling her two swords back and, eventually, spun into the air, smoke following her trail. Seemingly utilising the same attack she finished Simon with, the wide-eyed first apprentice to Gehrman plummeted down for her enemy, fire and blood auras following her.

SMASH

Stewart smoked through the attack just as it broke apart the clocktower's floorboards savagely, appearing directly behind her. Widening his eyes he pulled his silver sword back and, with great effort, readied it for a firm stab. Maria's own eyes widened when she realised her own strike missed, snapping her head around half-way to eye him worriedly but it was far too late. Maria yelled out in pain as she staggered forward from the attack, knowing full well what was coming next; Stewart's eyebrows lifted upwards as he phased forward to apply his visceral attack.

SQUELCH-SMASH

The older huntress could only grunt out and grit her teeth in abject physical agony as Stewart reached past her defences before, finally, tossing her forward and dealing colossal damage. The woman sprawled to the floorboards of her clocktower and rolled across them hopelessly, coughing out crimson-coloured life-juices as she did so, staining the light-brown wood below her. Maria turned her wavy vision over to the slow-approaching Stewart, glaring at him hatefully.

"Why...?"

The wide-eyed Stewart gasped as he heard her finally audibly speak to him.

"Why couldn't Sensei Gehrman... see you...," she growled out as she pulled herself up off the ground, though not without visible difficulty. "For what you really were?"

"I'm not that person anymore," he answered her back in his sad but firm frown. Soon reminding himself of the listening and similarly frowning Butcher within himself he put on a small smile. "We're not that person anymore." The youth corrected himself.

"You have always been that person...," Maria spat back at him distastefully, as if speaking to him was toxic to her tongue. "The Byrgenwerth Butcher...," she grinned out for the first time, blood covering her many injuries and her face. Stewart's smile dropped as she spoke but he kept his stare direct and firm. "At least Sensei Willem knew not to trust you...," the young woman claimed in her knowledgeable grin. "You are a parasite; why would you seek the Healing Church and its secrets?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Lady Maria, but we found you here like this," he claimed very briefly, nodding in the blood-pooled chair's direction. "For a good reason," Stewart finished in his business-like frown. "If you think I'm worse than what your church has done... then why would we have found you this way?" He explained back in response, his eyes narrowing.

Silence plummeted down upon the two knowing hunters as they stared at one another; Stewart in his determined frown and Maria in her hateful scowl.

"Merely tainted words from a murderer," the first student to Gehrman merely mouthed in a mutter, glaring back at him. "They mean... nothing."

~

Maria re-began the fight once more by raising her right blade horizontally very briefly; easily predicting her side of attack, Stewart smoked forward in a deft quickstep to avoid the attack, diagonally slashing at her as she passed him. Angry, she turned her growling scowl on him to her back-right before similarly phasing backward to pursue him, her fire-coated blades following her. Stewart shot up his silver sword to clang noisily against her smaller left-handed blade before soon phasing in and out of her attacks skilfully and speedily, eyes narrowed at her now wild and predictable style of attack.

Now able to follow and watch the exchange, the lightly wounded Gus couldn't help but grin as he watched his much younger comrade endlessly ghost through his enemy's wide swipes and strikes. Still propped up on his right elbow, he turned his grin on the pair and opened his mouth to cheer him on.

"Go Stewart go!"

Finally and seemingly had enough of her slippery opponent's movements, Maria grunted as she swept his legs; this one at last connected and Stewart found himself widening his eyes as he dropped to the clocktower's floor. He shot his free left arm down to catch his fall but, as he did, the older huntress growled as she knocked her right leg into his arm, audibly injuring it. He yelled out in pain as he dropped, rolling across the floorboards in some attempt to recover but she pursued him hungrily; the long, white-haired huntress widened her eyes as she leapt through the air before slamming down catch his roll, effectively straddling him.

Oh no, he thought.

He couldn't help stare back in expanded-eyed terror as he struggled to free himself of her intense leg-lock but it was fruitless; the younger hunter could only watch as she pulled her two fiery and bloodied Rakuyo blades skyward to attack with.

There's only one thing I can do now, he ruminated, his mind going back to his mentor's teachings.

"A well placed gunshot will open me up for a visceral attack."

With Gehrman's words ringing through his ears he used his injured arm to grasp at his Hunter's Pistol and, aiming it upward, he widened his eyes for the umpteenth time as he squeezed the trigger.

BANG

Silence.

Stewart's eyes remained widened as he lay down on the ground, his left arm and pistol still outstretched forward. Maria's eyes were also expanded but, finally, she reacted to the gunshot she seemingly received; with a sudden and violent cough, she hacked her blood down onto his black coloured hunter's chest garb.

CLANG-CLANG

Her two Rakuyo dual-swords struck the floor emphatically before, finally, she sagged backwards and shut her eyes in a saddened frown, her leg-grip on the youth below her definitively loosened.

"S-Sensei... G-Gehrman..."

As she breathed out her last and final words her body, as the others before her, began to explode brightly into a white-light. Before she even touched the ground, she finally phased back out of existence leaving the terror-faced Stewart lying grazed and shocked. A large gear dropped from the whiteness that was left, spinning across the wooden floorboards noisily before finally ending its twist, as if a coin on the ground.

"Prey slaughtered... well done Stewart."

In spite of the Butcher's complimenting words echoing throughout his mind, Stewart couldn't help but gasp in effort as he dropped his elbows and his head back down to the ground to rest. Unbeknownst to the youth however the wide-eyed Simon, having watched the word exchange between his comrade and enemy, could only watch his fallen companion in a strange mixture of shock and horror.


	19. Struggle for Survival; Wrath of the Church

Chapter 19: Struggle for Survival; Wrath of the Church  
Chains of the Byrgenwerth Blasphemy Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Dizzy Maniac" - Black Lagoon: Roberta's Blood Trail OST. Scene 1 (Second Half).  
"Pledge of Demon (Slow Version)" - Yakuza 0 OST. Scene 2 (Second Half) and Scene 3 (Second Half).

\--

In their final endeavour with the master of the Astral Clocktower Stewart Forbes, Youthful Gus and Simon the Harrowed narrowly escape death and defeat; with all of his remaining strength the three men manage to clinch through Lady Maria's incredible strength in a collective effort. Having pushed through, the men learn very little except that she was guarding a terrible secret.

A secret in which they will now access.

Having faced down all odds of such names Laurence, the First Vicar, Ludwig the Holy Blade and now Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower, the party of three hunters seem to be at a tremendous high, their morale soaring to the skies. With hope in their heart and strength in their trick weapons, the three men press on their luck to advance forward to the real secret the Hunter's Nightmare has to offer.

Unbeknownst to both Gus and Stewart however, the suspicious Simon has bore witness to a horrifying discovery during the duo's duel...

\--

Scene 1

"Yes, Stewart! That's the real you!"

The named youth gasped awake, snapping his upper body upwards in shock.

The Byrgenwerth Butcher's words, oddly enthusiastic and positive, echoed throughout his mind. Stewart brought up his left gloved hand to rest on his head, eyes narrowing forward as he thought of his second side living inside his conscious.

He had been strangely amicable over the past few days in the Hunter's Nightmare.

Am I finally getting through to him?

Time will only tell, he thought.

"Ah, good, you're awake."

He frowned and turned his head to his right, lowering his left arm to his side. On his right stood the lightly smiling form of Youthful Gus, a single arm resting on his armoured hip. Next to him was the back-facing Simon, his raggedy clothed rear facing the youth. His arms were comparatively and seriously folded when compared with his unusually informal companion. Stewart grunted as he pulled himself up from the floorboards of the clocktower he lay on, dusting himself off from his earlier engagement with Maria.

"How are you feeling?"

"Still tired, if I'm honest," Stewart chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in a nervous and familiar fashion; an old habit. His eyes couldn't help but glide over to watch the presumably frowning Simon watch the now open doorway before them. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yes I only suffered minor wounds; nothing a blood vial can't cure," Gus smiled back amiably, nodding forward. Stewart nodded similarly, happy for his safe return. However when he noted that Simon again refused to speak or even face the pair he found himself frowning. "Simon is all right," the lightly grinning Gus spoke for their companion instead, turning it on him. Finally the named former Healing Church Templar swivelled his head around to face them both; he gave the watching Gus an approving silent nod but, as he confronted the watching Stewart, he opted instead to turn back. Stewart blinked in uncertainty and began to grow worried.

Have I annoyed him somehow or...?

His paranoid ruminations were soon interrupted however when the frowning Simon stepped forward, unfolding his arms. Raising a curious eyebrow, Gus shifted his head around to watch his friend, uncertainty washing over his face.

"Are we moving on so quickly? Can't we give some time to lick our wounds?"

"I'd rather we keep going...," Simon shot over as he briefly stopped marching to half-turn his head in a hard tone of voice, a soft feel through his words. "We're almost to the threshold."

With that, the former affiliated Healing Church warrior stepped forward, disappearing through the clocktower's final opening. Gus turned to offer the similarly frowning Stewart an unsure shrug before lightly swivelling his body around to go join him. The young man from Byrgenwerth was left with merely an uncertain frown upon his face, attempting to work the situation out.

Unfortunately for him however, he could not.

When he pressed forward to leave the clocktower however and join his comrades, he could barely stifle the intense bright light that washed over his eyes. Stewart raised up his right gloved arm to block the light assaulting his eyes. Soon however it dropped and, as it did, he was left with the surprisingly lulling sound of rain.

Where am I?

His eyes finally re-stabilised and, when they did, he found himself overlooking a seemingly endless clearing. Ahead lay a huge stretch of water with numerous bare winter-like trees dotted around the landscape. Simon and Gus both marched ahead together, wading through the rain-infested surface before them; Stewart nodded once before following in spite of his aching bones and body. Stepping through the mushy and moist ground he frowned as he marched on after his pair of quiet comrades.

This was what Maria was protecting so fiercely.

But why?

Whatever it is, he thought...

It must be big.

"Byrgenwerth... Byrgenwerth..."

All three men tensed up, their weapons making a loud and echoing sound as they were immediately unsheathed in response to the voice that approached them. When Stewart walked forward very carefully and quietly to join his two comrades he narrowed his eyes at the walking cloaked figure not far from their front.

"Blasphemous murderers... blood-crazed fiends...," the figure's voice, seemingly a low-toned man's murmured out hatefully. Stewart found himself relaxing when he saw the male approaching, seemingly not hostile at all. "Atonement for the wretches... by the wrath of Mother Kos...," he went on as he marched on forward, his steps laborious and his tone as strenuous as his paces. "Mercy for the poor, wizened child... mercy... oh please..."

The shallow water beneath his legs made splashing sounds as he dragged himself across the ground, seemingly aimlessly and all. As he stepped on past the watching and relaxed forms of Stewart, Gus and Simon, he finally spoke one last time.

"Lay the curse of blood upon them, and their children and their children's children... for evermore..."

Could this be what Simon meant when he said this place was a 'nightmare'?

I wonder, Stewart briefly ended his thoughts with a furrowed brow, eyeing the walking form of the nameless cloaked man.

"Let's keep moving gentlemen."

Gus and Stewart were pulled out of their similarly fixed stare, turning to frown back at the re-marching Simon. The puddles splashed beneath his feet as he did so and the listening pair nodded as they followed wordlessly.

"This place... looks to me like-"

"A village," Simon interrupted the older Gus, frowning around at the fishing equipment just lying around. "A fishing hamlet."

"Fishing hamlet..." Stewart parroted very lowly in a narrow-eyed murmur, his own eyes glossing over the equipment.

"This is what we have been looking for." Simon offered out as he pressed forward, marching on through; the group turned right, passing by the notable lamp lying in wait for the dreaming youth. Pressing on, the three hunters soon found themselves opposite an open hut and the hungry Stewart found himself hoping for a rest.

Though he dared not speak up for himself.

"Simon, it may be a good idea to rest and recuperate," Gus advised in his business-like frown. The raggedy-clothed hunter in question finally about-turned to face the two men of varying ages, frowning in response. "If only for my sake," the waking hunter chuckled as he tilted his head in a jolly manner, as if to lighten the notably frosty mood in the group. "I am an old man after all."

Simon opted not to chime in; he merely turned his head and, seemingly in quiet agreement, splashed his steps toward the open hut in question. Smiling Gus swivelled his head to meet his younger friend, nodding at him once as if in confirmation. Stewart couldn't help but smile wanly back in response, also silently nodding, grateful for the assistance. Though he followed his two companions into the open hut he couldn't help but watch the back of the thus far silent Simon, his seeming suspicions seething at the surface.

Stewart shook his head of his worries however, splashing forward very lightly to go recover.

~

"To give yourself up... body and soul; a vessel for the Hunter's Dream..."

"P-Perhaps... you... could be the one to set sensei Gehrman free."

"You have always been that person... the Byrgenwerth Butcher; you are a parasite."

Stewart gasped himself awake for the second time that day, snapping his head back up from his sitting position, propped up on one of the broken wooden stairways that lay inside the open hut. He winced when he felt numerous parts of his body ache as he pushed himself back up from his slouching position.

That fight with Maria really took it out of me he thought.

Why aren't I regaining any stamina?

The youth rose his eyes up and, surprised to find the frowning Gus standing just at the entryway of the hut, similarly frowned up at him. He sucked up the pain and grunted as he pulled himself upward before striding on over.

"What's wrong Gus?"

The elderly warrior turned his white moustached frown on his younger friend, his right hand placed on the wooden post of the entryway.

"Simon has left."

Stewart's eyes widened in shock and surprise.

"B-But why-?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you, in all honesty," Youthful Gus lamented as he re-turned his eyes back out to the rainy outside of the area they inhabited. "It had to do with you."

"With... me...?" Stewart murmured out as he listened, his mind running at a mile at a minute.

What could I have done to him that I don't know about?

"He told me a very personal reason for it all."

"Can we still catch up to him?" Stewart frowned out as he made to leave however, the disapproving Gus shook his head, using his left arm to bar his path out the hut.

"He'd rather not be followed," Gus answered in his own sad frown. "I don't know what he hopes to achieve by himself but...," he sighed out laboriously, shaking his head in a show of his own opinion. "We should respect his wishes."

"Gus... you have to tell me," Stewart insisted, a firm frown forwardly fixed on his face. "Why exactly did he leave?"

The waking hunter of Yharnam sighed lightly through his nose as he briefly turned down to the watery ground beneath them, as if looking for the answer there, before finally re-facing his friend and confidant.

"When you spoke with Lady Maria in the clocktower earlier...," he trailed off very briefly before re-rising his eyes to frown back at the shocked youth. "He heard every word you both spoke."

Stewart's eyes widened in his aforementioned shock, soon realising why Simon left. Memories of Maria's words came shooting back to him.

"You have always been that person... the Byrgenwerth Butcher; you are a parasite."

He left because I'm a murderer, he thought.

"I... I didn't realise he heard us...," Stewart winced out as he took a step back from the listening Gus. "W-Why didn't you leave?"

"You are still my friend," Gus reinforced, this time with a light smile on his face. "And I am relatively certain you have good intentions, in spite of your history."

The dreaming hunter couldn't help but smile very wanly in response, finding the lining in the silver.

–

2

"You acted rashly."

Simon re-set his hardened frown upon his expression as he trudged on through the underside of a long tunnel he had found. His expression twitched but only once when his thoughts echoed throughout his mind.

Ignore them, he thought.

"Gus was right; he's a changed a man."

What if he isn't?

"You know I'm right."

The Byrgenwerth Butcher murdered my family, he shot back to his own conflicting thoughts, his steps splashing through the surprisingly hard surface.

"If not for the Byrgenwerth Butcher, you and Gus would not even be here."

His last rumination made the bowman stop his obstinate march, turning his frown downward. He raised his free left hand to grasp at his forehead softly; seemingly an old habit. Shaking his head, he finally decided to give in to the numerous conflicting thoughts he had plagued with and about-turned to return to his two companions.

Maybe I can still make it back in time, he thought.

DRING...

Simon's eyes widened and he held in a loud gasp, his surprise rising with his shock.

What was-?

DRING...

A second time, he thought.

I know that sound.

An oddly terrifying sound of noisy wind echoed behind him and Simon very soon found himself slowly and deliberately about-turning back to face the interruption and source of the deep bell's reverberation.

His eyebrows lifted in slow horror-filled realisation when he saw the bent-over form of a man standing before him. Frozen in his own steps, Simon could only watch as the man grabbed his spiked mace and stabbed it within himself, his body drooping forward with the blood that came with it. Silence descended down upon the pair before, finally, the mysterious invader very slowly turned his antler and beast-fur wearing head up maliciously.

The unnamed intruder yanked his mace from his stomach, seemingly uncaring, before finally slowly marching toward the terror-filled Simon.

~

"Perhaps we can still catch up!"

Stewart nodded as he huffed, attempting to keep his pace with the older gentleman and warrior; he struggled to not reveal his tiredness but it was becoming very difficult very quickly.

What am I going to do if we find ourselves in a fight?

As if to work on his fearful thoughts however, Gus finally stopped his march when they came toward the end of the tunnel, light poking out through a lit cavern. Grateful for the brief rest, Stewart leaned the back of his tired body against the wall behind him, raising his long-haired head up to catch his breath.

"Simon!"

Gus' sudden urgent call made the youth snap his eyes in his direction, narrowing in light suspicion and worry. He peeled himself off the tunnel wall before following forward, trudging his aching legs through the shallow watery ground. He peeked over the kneeling Gus' shoulder to find the fallen Simon lying face down in a pool of watery blood; his eyes widened.

"Just as I feared...," Youthful Gus murmured out as he felt for the raggedy-man's pulse; he snapped his head back up to the sweating Stewart and opened his mouth. "Give me a blood v-"

"N-No..."

Simon's muttering cough made the pair of Yharnam men swivel their eyes back down in surprise, soon falling silent.

"T-There's n-no time... for me...," the fallen bowman could only gasp out, his body unmoving. "H-He's... coming... back..."

"He...?" Gus murmured out, narrowing his eyes down at his companion. "Who, Simon? Who?!"

DRING...

Stewart held in a surprised gasp, his brow furrowing suspiciously as he snapped his head skyward in the deep echoing sound's direction.

"What in the name is that?" Gus muttered out, looking around for the source of the noise.

DRING...

Oh no, Stewart thought, his eyes slowly widening in realisation.

This was the sound I heard down in the cells, he thought.

This was the sound I should have investigated!

Before he could even draw his Holy Blade, the white wind that formed forward shocked the pair of hunters with how quickly it appeared. Seemingly already buffed from his earlier engagement, the nameless intruder ran forward, his eyes set on the wide-eyed Gus. The elderly gentleman went for his Whirligig Saw in an instant but before he could even successfully draw it, the nameless warrior swept his legs, knocking him over. Gus gasped, attempting to use one of his free arms to recover but it was no use; the narrow-eyed antler wearing invader pierced his spiked mace through the older man's chest. Gus drew in breath sharply, widening his eyes; blood sprayed messily from his now open wound onto the similarly shocked-faced Stewart.

"No!"

In spite of the youth's call, the nameless man merely spun around to roundhouse kick the grunting Gus off his spiked mace. He crashed noisily and painfully into the tired Stewart, sending the pair rolling and splashing across the watery ground. Gus rolled messily but otherwise safely off the gasping Stewart, seemingly now unconscious; his saw teetered off away from his grip and Stewart found himself grunting in effort as he pushed himself up barely off the ground with his elbows. He found the slow-marching form of his new enemy approaching, intimidating and all.

He wore a peculiar head-piece of antlers and fur across his back, as if stolen from some kind of beast.

A cleric beast perhaps?

Otherwise he seemed to wear some rather respectable business-wear clothes; a buttoned shirt, basic hunter gloves and even office-like trousers.

He looked a sight to see.

"Brador...!" Simon gasped out, angrily swiping at the now named man's feet as he passed him, missing hopelessly. The warrior didn't even pay him a moment's notice, his eyes still set on the gasping Stewart.

"You heard that bell earlier... didn't you?" The man finally spoke as he sauntered forward, raising his head upward as he did so. Stewart could only gasp as he tried with great effort to raise himself back to a standing position but any time he did, shooting pains shot through his body.

It seemed impossible.

"I'll let you in on a little something...," Brador claimed, his voice deep and refined, yet foreign somehow. "I'm not like the rest of these hopeless fools trapped in this Hunter's Nightmare," the man shot over softly, his voice lightly echoing. Stewart gasped, shutting one eye in effort as he forced himself to sit up shakily. "Getting myself out of here? Free?" He murmured out as he made the final approach, his morning-star Bloodletter mace scraping the ground horribly. Finally he stood looming over the gasping and grit-toothed Stewart, glaring.

"Couldn't care a whit...," Brador spoke once more, this time shaking his head in his hard-eyed glare, as if disapproving of the youth somehow. "As long as you woe-driven nitwits continue to disturb this place I'll keep sending you all back packing," he warned proudly before very slowly rising up his eyebrows and his eyes expanding with them. "So when I see hypocrites like you press on otherwise...," he began lowly, reaching for his Bloodletter. "I cannot... will not... abide that," the man cautioned hatefully, rising up his morning-star mace threateningly. "So... for the Healing Church...!" He began out once more in building to finish his sentence, his eyes finally widening as he watched the similarly worried-faced Stewart.

The youth's thoughts couldn't help but go back to his former friends and companions at Oedon Chapel.

I'm sorry... Alfred, Eileen...

Noah, Gus, Simon...

… Arianna...

Stewart shut his despair-filled eyes and closed his mouth, finally ready to accept his end.

"DIE!"

CLANG

In an instant the youth's body moved but not of Stewart's intention; now residing in his subconscious, he could only watch in shocked and widened eyes. The newly scowling-faced grit-toothed Byrgenwerth Butcher glared back hatefully at the similarly aghast-expressed Brador, his transformed Hunter's Axe colliding roughly with the Bloodletter.

"B-Butcher?!" Stewart could only stammer out in an amazed gasp, unable to make sense of the situation.

Unwilling to bear his new opponent's strength, the Byrgenwerth Butcher grunted once as he darted his left leg into the man's wide-eyed lower stomach, winding and knocking him back a step. With enough room, the Butcher roared with effort as he got to his feet and spun around in a wide spinning slash attack. Brador thought better than to challenge the new youth's strength; opting instead to back-flip in recovery, he landed on one knee before slowly rising back up to face the newly glaring form of his enemy.

Silence descended down upon the pair of combatants; the Byrgenwerth Butcher stood lowly, holding onto his lengthened Hunter's Axe with his sole right hand, his left hanging at his side. Brador sunk his Bloodletter into the watery ground beneath him, narrowing his eyes forward before slowly re-opening his mouth to speak once more.

"The look in your eye... has changed I see..." Brador muttered out, staring back at the furious-faced Byrgenwerth Butcher.

–

3

"I-I don't believe it...," Stewart could only gasp out, his eyes widened in shock. "Butcher, why?!"

Ahead of him in the blank space of their consciousness, the Byrgenwerth Butcher stood in his earlier stance, his eyes glaring but his face now merely frowning softly in response, staring forward at the endless space before him.

"This isn't your fight; I'm s-sorry I couldn't finish it b-but I-"

"That's not like you, Stewart."

The named youth couldn't help but gasp a second time since that revelation, his eyes blinking in similar surprise at being softly interrupted.

"You never apologise, least of all to me," the Butcher spoke, his refined accent reverberating across the walls; finally however he turned similar-faced head to meet the staring youth. "Getting one out of you is like pulling teeth." He finished, cracking a small grin as he did so.

Stewart could only stare in flabbergasted shock before, finally reading the atmosphere; the young man could only laugh lowly, his mouth upturning into a smile.

"True to your word, Stewart, you have undertook this quest all on your own... but now...," the Butcher began, lowering his uncharacteristic smile to the low scowl he was so fond of as he now re-faced the front. "Leave the rest to me."

~

"Parasite...!"

Knocking the Butcher from his inner conversation with his other side, the notorious serial killer quickstepped to his left to avoid the grunting Brador's jumping swipe. The Bloodletter clanged noisily against the watery ground, splashing up water in every direction. Offering his enemy little time to recover however, Brador roared as he spun his mace wildly around to his far-right in order to catch the quickstepping youth.

The Butcher similarly growled as he swung his transformed Hunter's Axe diagonally around to meet the blade in mid-air.

CLANG

The sound of their steel knocked against the walls of the tunnel endlessly as the pair of warriors glared at one another. The two abled killers glared at one another wordlessly for what felt like hours before, finally, they both broke their hold manually. Their weapons clinked and clanged noisily as they back-stepped from each other, eyes watching ever carefully for any other way in. The growling Brador quickstepped forward to pursue the youth, eyes narrowed forward. Easily following his movements, the Butcher leaned his head to the side sharply just as his rumbling opponent thrust his Bloodletter forward. Utilising his new-found strength, the Butcher's eyes narrowed as he swept his enemy's legs, causing a knock-down; he further pressured by following up with a newly wide-eyed strike to the strangely dressed man's face, sending him grunting in pain and sprawling to the ground.

Brador rolled his body manually, water splashing up from his movement; the Butcher wordlessly pursued his most hated enemy by leaping straight into the air.

SLAM

His Hunter's Axe clashed with the moist ground beneath them, splashing water everywhere; the gasping Brador rolled left desperately, barely avoiding the attack. The Byrgenwerth Butcher yelled in a mixture of effort and growing anger as he forward-flipped rapidly in further pursuit, smashing his extended axe after the older man. They continued on until, finally when reaching the end of the long but narrow side of the tunnel, Brador opted to push up off of the ground roughly. The Butcher's eyes widened as he flipped forward already in his earlier pursuit, watching the surprisingly acrobatic Brador side-somersault through the air in recovery.

The Healing Church assassin landed skillfully on the tunnel's wall before shooting himself back off it straight for his opponent, as if an arrow shot from a bow. The Butcher landed by now and, reacting swiftly, managed to lean his head under Brador's spinning swing. Time slowed down for him however as he acted in counter-attack; the young former serial killer spun his own body in an athletic spiralling twist vertical slice.

SQUELCH

Brador yelled out with notable pain; the Butcher's counter-attack was struck true. He turned around in his wide-eyed scowl and sprinted on after him. The pained Healing Church assassin merely growled once as he landed sprawling to the ground before soon pushing back up off the ground acrobatically. He flipped through the air in spite of his wound and readied his spiked mace to defend with. When the Butcher finally caught up with him, their hunting instruments collided terribly as quickly as they moved. The pair found themselves endlessly twisting their bodies around the moist and confined battle arena, eyes never leaving one another. The Butcher couldn't help but let out a gasp nonetheless when the older man's Bloodletter caught him in a graze and yet...

It was all he needed.

Widening his eyes and revealing a broad and seemingly maddened grin, Brador pressed on his morale by using his right leg in a roundhouse kick directed at the youth's own right leg.

CRACK

The Byrgenwerth native could only yelp out in sudden physical pain, doubling over from the agony; Brador let loose an unstable laugh as he used the opening he had created by widely sweeping his mace across the youth. The Butcher grunted out deeply and, through shut-eyed injury, was sent spinning through the air as if a frisbee. He landed revolving roughly across the watery ground beneath him, seemingly opened up for further damage; the grinning Brador took the opportunity presented to him and leapt after his opponent, hungry-eyed and all.

The Healing Church's obscure assassin plummeted down for his enemy, Bloodletter held back seemingly to puncture with. The Byrgenwerth Butcher lied on the ground face up, his eyes shut from the earlier anguish he suffered. Before the crazy-eyed warrior could meet him however, the Butcher's eyes snapped wide-open before he shot his left arm down into his hunter's garb for something. Brador's own eyes widened in an unhealthy mixture of alarm and regret but by then it was far too late to do anything about his descent; he merely readied his spiked mace for his inevitably planned attack. The Butcher's bloody mouth up-turned into a light, confident smirk before opening his mouth to speak but one word.

"Checkmate."

BANG

He squeezed off a Quicksilver Bullet from his Hunter's Pistol and deathly halted Brador's momentum, sending him merely dropping to the ground. The Butcher used his arms to slam himself up off the ground with surprising strength before pressing forward in a deft quickstep. He reached forward with his weapon arm, readying himself for the inevitable Visceral Attack that came with his parry.

SQUELCH-SMASH

Brador's eyes widened as blood sailed horribly and stained the colourless, damp terrain beneath them. The Butcher's blood-soaked right arm messed terribly with the assassin's chest insides before, finally, he grunted with effort and finished his attack, tossing him helplessly into the air. The Healing Church eliminator could only utter out a single and weakened grunt of pain, the last of his energy finally spent. The Byrgenwerth Butcher marched forward slowly, his steps sloshed quietly through the water as he walked, his eyes narrowing forward at the shimmering form of his enemy.

A sure sign of defeat.

"Impressive... Brador of the Healing Church," the Butcher opted to compliment his opponent before finally approaching him. Brador turned his bloody face up to glare back at his stronger adversary. Looming over him the Butcher frowned firmly before continuing on. "But you will not defend your organisation's shameful secrets from us," he claimed boldly in his narrowing eyes. "Now go... back to your cell. And languish there like the parasite you are."


	20. Hunter's Unify; the Last Leg

Chapter 20: Hunters Unify; The Last Leg  
Chains of the Byrgenwerth Blasphemy Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Orphan of Kos" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 2 (First Half).  
"Oath of Enma" - Yakuza 0 OST. Scene 3 (First Half).

\--

Having spent just about every ounce of his war-torn energy in constant combat, Stewart Forbes is faced with a dilemma; having listened to his earlier conversation with Lady Maria, Simon the Harrowed opts to leave the group in a public show of distaste and protest, his ire directed at the second side of Stewart, the Byrgenwerth Butcher. Unfortunately for him however, he experiences a hardship unlike any other all on his lonesome...

The pursuing Healing Church Assassin, Special Class – Brador.

In a daring and bold move however, shocking both friend and foe, the Byrgenwerth Butcher opts to assist the tired Stewart in his ill-fated duel with the invading Brador of the Healing Church. As Stewart had once hoped, the two at last appear to be coming to terms with one another's existence; with no clear advantage to be gained in saving not just Stewart but the wounded Gus and Simon, Stewart can finally count the Byrgenwerth Butcher among his most trusted allies.

And it is now with this ally in tow does Stewart realise their combined potential in the next and final explosive confrontation...

\--

Scene 1

"T-That was... impressive...," Simon could only gasp out, laying on the watery ground of his earlier defeat, facing the ceiling above him. He coughed from his grievous wounds softly, his right hand laid comparatively comfortably on his raggedy chest. "To think... that you would have come to my r-rescue... still... after what I did..." The injured bowman could only laugh out, his voice similarly frayed from combat.

The listening Stewart and Youthful Gus, recharged and renewed since their own combat, knelt over the dying form of their comrade, listening to him dutifully.

"B-But this... isn't the end of the road... just yet...," Simon managed out, this time in a gasping frown as he did so. "I'm s-sure you've both realised...," he chuckled this time, briefly shutting his eyes as he continued on. "This is the real secret the Healing Church has hidden away... this fishing hamlet and the massacre that once occurred here."

The knowing Gus exchanged his positive, frowning nod with the similar-faced Stewart, listening attentively.

"This is what feeds the Hunter's Nightmare," Simon explained very briefly as he slowly re-opened his eyes, facing the ceiling once more. "A-After what I just saw... only you can do it," he suddenly accused but in a warm, pained smile. He turned his bloody-faced smile on the wide-eyed, frowning Stewart. "Only you can end this Hunter's Nightmare; you have to. I believe you are he; you are the Pthumerians' 'Last Hunter'," Simon smiled, tears beginning to sting at the sides of his eyes as he spoke. Stewart lowered his eyes in a temporary show of uncertainty before re-focusing them upward and leaning forward. "I've waited so long to see this day come to fruition..."

"Simon...," Gus frowned out softly next to his kneeling and younger companion. "To have come this far... only to fall?" He breathed out, leaning forward also, his eyes softly narrowing. "I... can't believe that, I refuse to."

"I'm sorry, Sir Gus," Simon could only chuckle in response, turning his head up to face the older man. "But I can follow you both no longer; no blood vial can save me now," he reasoned with in his frown before slowly re-focusing his warm but wan smile back to his face. "I have only one request."

"Name it; anything."

"I need you... to watch over him," the man smiled out, obviously referring to the silent Stewart. "Assure me that he will survive long enough to realise his destiny."

"I'm sure he doesn't need me to do that with...," Youthful Gus couldn't help but put on a low grin as he briefly turned to face the smiling Stewart before soon re-facing his dying comrade with a frown. "But of course I will." He nodded in quiet agreement.

"Good...," Simon managed out before coughing a second time, similarly softly. He turned his eyes to face the ceiling above him and smiled, his vision becoming blurrier by the second from a mix of his tears and his inevitable end. "For years I had thought I had lost myself to despair and hatred for my own selfish kind...," he began once more lowly, re-shutting his eyes. His warm smile regrew on his expression however when he similarly re-opened his tearful eyes back up to face his last watching companions. "But you two have taught me otherwise," the dying bowman chuckled good-naturedly, blood pooling inevitably around his fallen body. "T-Thank you... for meeting me," he thanked in a low nod. "I haven't felt this kind of friendship in years," the man admitted, his voice becoming dreamy and the background similarly wavy. "It... feels... kind of... good."

His last words finally echoed on out of his mouth and with them came a slow and inevitable drop into a frown, his eyes becoming dreamy and glassy.

Stewart lowered his head in a sad frown, shutting his own eyes as he joined his hands together in praying for his close comrade. Gus similarly frowned as he reached forward slowly to bring the silent Simon's eyelids down in respect.

The last two of the Hunter's Nightmare allies lay there for a good while in respect for their fallen friend.

~

Stewart and Gus frowned as they finally took their last steps out of the seemingly endless maze of the cave they navigated, eyes narrowing as they did so. Stewart found himself watching the countless number of strange human-like creatures bent over in a praying stance, all seemingly pointing one way.

"It's just as Simon warned us," Gus breathed out as they approached the end of the now open cave. Before them lay a huge coast, a beach and sea complete with an ominous looking moon in the distance. "This is the true key of the Hunter's Nightmare."

"A... Great One...?" Stewart could only murmur out in half-shock, half-bewilderment as he slowly approached the fallen and seemingly deceased white body lying on the beach below them. Stewart narrowed his eyes down at it, unable to decipher any kind of its origin.

It was definitely not human, whatever it was.

As if reacting to their very presence, the body began to move indirectly, making the watching pair of men tense up. Staying their hand however they opted to watch as, outside of its low body, a second form began to poke out from beneath the carcass.

"In the name of god..."

In spite of Gus' horrified gasping, Stewart found his stare hooked and unable to pull away from the terrifying sight they were gifted with. As if pulled straight out of a horror novel, the strange creature had a human-like face and body shape and yet with notable differences; fins on its forearms and a long tail streaking down its back. It also wore a suspiciously crimson coloured appendage next to its right arm; seemingly an attacking weapon of some kind.

As the unnamed creature began to finally stand on its own two feet, breaking itself from its mother's body, the monster turned its fixed gaze up to the moon shining down at them. Gus' eyes could only widen in horror when he realised the name of the creature.

"Kos... or some say... 'Kosm...'," the elderly warrior managed out before finishing his sentence. "The Orphan of Kos."

Stewart tore his own gaze from his comrade's words to stare at the back-facing Orphan. His eyes soon also widened when he heard the sound of crying emanating from it of all things.

Am I going insane?

"That sounds like... Gehrman-sensei..."

His thoughts were soon interrupted however.

–

2

The fallen abomination wasted no time; it turned its head to watch the pair of men before suddenly, and with incredible strength and agility, leapt up to pursue them. Its angry and hateful scream rent the air, making the pair of hunters widen their eyes in surprise.

"Move!"

Opting to heed his older and wiser companion's words, Stewart gasped as he rolled across the murky and mushy ground, skidding across it in evasion.

SLAM

The Orphan of Kos' Amygdalan Arm smashed apart the ground roughly, bringing up rocks and boulders in its impressive feat of strength. Stewart narrowed his eyes before quickstepping forward to press his attack, silver sword drawn and ready. Though his diagonal slash struck true, the Orphan screamed a second time as it deftly side-dashed to its left, swinging its Amygdalan Arm in response. Though the wide-eyed Stewart managed to avoid most of the damage, it managed to still graze him across his leg, sending him yelling across the air.

The Orphan immediately gave pursuit.

The ground shook terribly from the commanding force the screaming, child-like Great One vent across the air; it leapt forward before plummeting down for the gasping and recovering Stewart. Fortunately for the youth however, his older companion shot in between them, his Whirligig Saw revved up and ready. The Orphan's eyes widened but its course was plotted out; it descended down and shrieked down hatefully at the narrow-eyed Gus below it.

SKRRR-CLANG-CLASH

The Orphan of Kos cried out in pain as the saw endlessly raked through its attacking arm, finally breaking through and forcing it back. The infant Great One pushed its legs off of the gasping Gus' body to back-flip through the air, landing gracefully in an injured growl.

"Get up Stewart!" Youthful Gus hissed down to his younger, gasping companion. "I can't do this alone!"

"We aren't alone though Gus...," Stewart grinned out this time however as he pulled himself back up off the ground, stepping forward past the wide-eyed Gus to stare directly at the watching Orphan. "Simon's watching over us with someone else..."

"Someone else?" Gus blinked, turning his eyes on his younger friend on his right. "Who-?"

"I've still got a ton of strength left!" The strangely confident Stewart shot out with as he used his free left arm to rest on his chest, lowering his narrow-eyed grin to stare back at the curious-faced Great One before him.

"No... Stewart you can't mean..."

"You bet I do!"

~

Inside his consciousness, Stewart spoke to the listening and imprisoned Byrgenwerth Butcher as if he were outside with the two, already fighting.

"Time and time again, you have proven me right in your true intentions to help me and the people of Yharnam," Stewart's wavy, dreamlike call came from outside of the frowning Butcher's cell. As if reacting to his own words, the standing Stewart soon materialised into the very endless space in which they both existed, his back facing the wide-eyed, surprised Butcher. "Butcher... meld your strength with mine... one more time..."

The Byrgenwerth Butcher watched his other side carefully, his mouth held open in an obviously shocked expression, unable to find the words with which to respond.

"There's no more need for a cage for you; you aren't a murderer anymore."

The Butcher held back from gasping, widening his eyes in pure shock and bewilderment.

"You're... me," Stewart smiled as he re-opened his eyes to turn his head upward, facing the front, his left arm still clutching his chest. "You're my brother... my friend." The youth smiled on out, his words echoing in the blank space they co-existed in.

The listening and oddly silent Butcher could only hear in awe, his eyes widened and his mouth held aloft to demonstrate it.

"You're Stewart Forbes!" The named youth exclaimed, his voice echoing loudly across the walls as he turned his smile into a confident smirk; he shot up his two arms, as if energised by his own morale-filled shout to his two sides roughly.

CLANG

As if in response, the cell in which the Butcher once resided in soon collapsed, each door and barred side flying off in dramatic show. The watching Butcher, eyes widened, could only stare back at his other side in shock before a slow grin of his own formed on his face.

"Now let's do this!" Stewart's morale-filled call echoed as he lowered his grinning head, his arms held aloft to his two sides.

The ultimate sign of trust.

The Byrgenwerth Butcher similarly lowered his own head to smirk, showing his teeth instead however in his confidence. "Hah!"

–

3

The Orphan of Kos' scream breached the air like a knife through butter as it leapt with incredible agility to pursue the two standing men. Gus gasped as he pushed his body to the side, skidding across the mushy, wet ground as he did so, leaving his shut-eyed companion standing alone.

"Stewart move!"

In spite of the older gentleman's call however, the youth did not seem to heed him until the very last second; as the shrieking Orphan made its final approach, the young Stewart shot his head up with a grin. The left side of his face seemed a closed-mouth confined grin whereas his right side was opened, toothy and hungry. Undaunted by its enemy's expression, the infant Great One merely roared as it slammed the ground savagely in an attempt to beat the youth into two. As if in response to his opponent however, the grinning Stewart did part in two; one form of himself leapt in Gus' direction, his left arm clenched in his modest grin of evasion while the other form wielded the Hunter's Axe, his toothy grin following him.

The watching Gus could hardly believe his widened eyes.

"In the name of Formless Oedon...," Youthful Gus breathed out in a mixture of puzzlement and disbelief, his eyes scanning over the grinning Stewart at his right and his Hunter Axe wielding clone far across the battlefield. "There are two of you! How?!"

The Orphan of Kos did not wait for the older warrior to hazard a guess however; it leapt for the low-grinning Stewart in another plummeting descent. This time however, the youth was ready and combined his silver sword with the sheath hanging on his back before widely horizontally slashing upwards as it passed. Gus gasped, raising up his arms to block the rainwater and sand that kicked up from their attacks, taking steps back from the engagement as if in shock. Stewart spun around in a grinning skid, spinning his transformed Holy Blade around his right arm expertly before suddenly ducking his head to his lower left.

The Orphan's eyes widened and it shrieked in pain as the flying Byrgenwerth Butcher's Hunter's Axe came horizontally sailing through the air, passing overhead the grinning Stewart. The infant Great One soon found itself spinning backward from the sheer pain from which the velocity it flew at, clawing away at the weapon to rid itself of it. Unfortunately for it however, the smirking Stewart sprinted forward to slash diagonally at his enemy a second time, successfully striking the shrieking Great One. As if summoned by its call, the second copy of Stewart soon darted into frame slamming his boots directly into the Orphan's face. Time slowed down for the spectating Gus; he watched the Byrgenwerth Butcher grasp at his dug-in Hunter's Axe before pulling it out roughly and back-flipping in safe recovery.

CRACK-SQUELCH

A kind of foreign blood from the poor creature flew into the air and, this time, it screamed an angry scream; the little form grasped the two sides of its head, as if in pain from a migraine. Finally, as if in response to its screaming however, its strength grew to a boil and a large explosion of pure white caked the area in which it stood. When it dissipated, the soggy flesh on its black almost seemed to evolve into a pair of wings. The Amygdalan Arm it wielded also grew in size, somewhat substantially.

Seemingly seething with its new pair of opponents, the newly transformed Orphan of Kos roared angrily as it spun its Amygdalan Arm wildly in an attempt to catch the two. Stewart and the Butcher merely smoked through the Orphan's wild and livid attacks with their Art of Quickening before similarly side-flipping over the Great One's head. Time slowed down temporarily for the grinning pair of hunters as they both slashed at the shrieking Orphan's head with their weapons. The Orphan of Kos let loose another pained and raging squeal of hatred as it spun its arm around a second time, as if hoping to catch the pair as they landed.

Stewart and the Butcher kept their eternal smirks on their faces as they landed in tandem safely before endlessly swivelling their body around to avoid their screaming enemy's attacks. Youthful Gus' eyes expanded in amazing bewilderment, unable to believe his own witness.

"Inconceivable...!" He gasped out, watching the lightning-fast engagement before him; he caught the brief pictures of the grinning Stewart and the Butcher amidst the trio's rapid movements. "I can't even follow them...!"

CLANG-SMASH-CLANG

Stewart's Holy Blade, the Butcher's Hunter's Axe and the Orphan's Amygdalan Arm endlessly clashed as the trio exchanged their liquid-fast manoeuvres, the ground and even the air shaking terribly from their intense raise in power. The Orphan however, seemingly having had enough of its punishment, opted to give one last angry scream before it suddenly bounded skyward, disappearing from common view. The remaining pair of hunters snapped their eyes up to follow it before turning back down to face each other and regained their earlier confident smirk, simultaneously nodding. As if acting on sheer silent teamwork alone, Stewart and the Butcher both merely pulled their respective weapons back, charging up their strength. A crimson-red aura encircled the pair as they did, renting the ground with a terrible earthquake.

SMASH-SQUELCH-SQUASH

Time stopped entirely.

Seemingly having predicted their enemy's movement, Stewart and the Butcher both smirked eternally confidently as they leaned their weapons deep into the gasping Orphan's flesh; the infant Great One landed directly between them, Stewart's Holy Blade embedded deep within its head and the Butcher's Hunter's Axe sunk heavily through its lower stomach region. Only the sound of the endlessly dropping rain echoed throughout the once din of a battlefield; Gus dared not open his mouth to speak or even take a step forward.

Finally however, the wide-eyed and open-mouthed Orphan of Kos breathed out a coughing gasp; its last breath of life, before its very body became encircled in a bright shimmering white light.

The end of the battle.

The infant Great One slowly dropped to its knees as its enemies finished their swings, spinning around the shimmering form of its body. Stewart and the Byrgenwerth Butcher let out their final open grins, ringing their left arms 'round one another in a brotherly embrace as they overlooked the glaring moon above them. The watching Youthful Gus finally allowed himself to breathe out in a held in sighing gasp, his eyes still widened. He couldn't help but shake his head in a disbelieving, grinning chuckle as he watched the Byrgenwerth Butcher's body slowly dissolve into white formless energy.

"Simon was right...," the elderly man finally relented, smiling at the grinning youth down on the rainy beach. "Only you could do this," he claimed as he leant his white-haired head to the side in appreciation. "'The Last Hunter'."

~

"Well done!"

Stewart's grin finally faded in place of a surprised frown; he turned his curious blink up to find Gus sauntering down to re-meet him, his Whirligig Saw resting on his back. He clapped down at the youth, as if to display his awe and approval.

"I had thought at first that was an after-image technique, but...," the elderly warrior began as he stopped marching, re-folding his arms in his sociable smile. "It would appear that truly was a second copy of yourself."

"No, not me." Stewart merely smiled back, shaking his head softly. Gus raised his eyebrows in his own, unsure.

"Oh?"

"My brother," the child-like youth grinned back openly. "The only reason I made it this far."

Gus chuckled good-heartedly, his own smile widening as he nodded in silent agreement.

"I'm only sorry that Simon had to go...," Stewart frowned out this time however, turning his body around to stare out at the endless ocean before them both. "If I was faster then maybe..."

"It was no-one's fault, Stewart," Gus similarly frowned out calmly. "Do not blame yourself," he said, eliciting a light smile on the youth's countenance. "Besides... we are yet to be finished here."

"W-We are?" The fourth apprentice to Gehrman blinked out cluelessly as he about-turned to face his older companion. Gus smiled as he stepped past the youth, marching toward the fallen corpse of Kos; Stewart traced his stare and found a notable ebony-coloured smoke rising out from it.

"This Hunter's Nightmare... needs extinguishing," the man claimed before turning to his left to re-face the youth. "Slay the nightmare Stewart."

The named youth smiled in his brief nod before re-turning to face the black smoke with a hard frown. Redrawing his Holy Blade he narrowed his eyes down at the vapour before grunting as he brought the large great-sword crashing down on it noisily.

As if in response to meeting the blade, the smoke almost immediately halted to produce itself, seemingly successfully petered out.

"Nightmare Slain...," Gus smiled out wanly as he turned his head to watch the black smoke slowly snake back toward the ocean, as if belonging there somehow. "May Simon, Lady Maria, Sir Ludwig and Sir Laurence all rest in peace."

In spite of all the grief and anguish in what had happened in his re-directed journey, Stewart couldn't help but find himself smiling alongside the folded-armed Gus, the two hunters staring out at the endless ocean together.


	21. Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter 21: Down the Rabbit Hole  
School of Mensis Inquisition Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Moonlit Melody" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Light and Darkness" - The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess OST. Scene 1 (First Half).  
"Legend of Hyrule" - The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess OST. Scene 1 (Second Half).

\--

'Nightmare Slain'.

It is by those words that Stewart Forbes and Youthful Gus make their final ode to their fallen companion, Simon the Harrowed. Though they could not save him, they do as he asks and rids the Hunter's Nightmare of its restless spirits by putting to rest the vengeful Orphan of Kos. In doing so, Stewart and his other side, the notorious serial killer, the Byrgenwerth Butcher finally make amends with one another; in their engagement with the Orphan of Kos, the two make the ultimate sign of trust together and their power grows exponentially.

Finally strengthened by new knowledge he has uncovered in the Hunter's Nightmare, Stewart returns to Yharnam a stronger and more confident hunter with his new companion, Gus, in tow. Adding up the poor lifeless bodies left behind by the Healing Church in the Nightmare, Stewart and Gus postulate that, with the knowledge of the fishing hamlet, Master Willem at Byrgenwerth Royal had been the indirect cause of the needless inhumane slaughter of the poor people living there. Sending through his forces, comprising of numerous officers including the names of Gehrman, Maria, Ludwig and even Laurence, Master Willem attempts to harvest the peoples' 'illness'.

Their first exposure to Kos... and of 'Insight'.

The envoys of Master Willem are soon ordered to put a stop to the growing infection and, using their weapons, puts them all to the sword. In the aftermath they build a research hall in which to experiment on these poor inflicted people to discover how they achieved enlightenment using their bodies as materials. Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower, unable to live with herself with these horrible deeds, ends her own life.

Vengeful, full of hatred and livid at the cause of its kin's death, the Great Ones instill a blood-drunk curse among the people responsible, damning them to an eternity of constant hunting, their sanity gone. This curse lasts for generations and extends even to their families, their children and their children's children. In Stewart, Simon and Gus' efforts however, the three heroes have finally ended this stigma, their hardened journey through history finally coming to an end.

For the former Byrgenwerth Butcher however, his adventure is merely entering its second and final stage; now strengthened in unity together, Stewart Forbes and the Byrgenwerth Butcher join hands, their skill and potential reaching to the heavens themselves. With their stalwart fighter and companion, Youthful Gus in tow, the lone survivors of the Hunter's Nightmare make their next expedition together through Yharnam...

\--

Scene 1

"So you're not a killer anymore, hm?" Youthful Gus questioned his comrade as they sauntered on through the Cathedral Ward together, almost as if on a casual stroll.

"No," the Byrgenwerth Butcher shot back in a similar grin, edging his head to the side suggestively as he did. "But keep pressing me and I might change my mind." He finished in his suggestive grin, though joking, clearly a bad one.

Gus couldn't help but burst out laughing anyway however, grasping his stomach as the pair descended down a group of steps together. "I had once thought the Byrgenwerth Butcher was Yharnam's most prolific serial killer and yet now..."

"Yes," the Butcher spoke through Stewart's body as they walked down the steps, his grin dissolving into a low frown. "I never thought I'd change, believe me."

"So then, what was it?" Gus questioned curiously, folding his arms; an old habit. When the Butcher rose a similarly inquisitive eyebrow upward, Gus couldn't help but put on a little grin. "What changed you?"

"I'm not sure in all honesty...," the former murderer murmured out as he shook his head in brief thought, unsure. "Seeing another side of me that didn't exist in pure hatred I suppose," the Yharnam accented young man chuckled, briefly shutting his eyes as he did so. Gus listened dutifully, opting to be respectful and not interrupt him. "I couldn't understand his motives; he did it all with no advantage given to himself. It just didn't make any sense to me," the seemingly wiser young man claimed as he shook his head a second time, clearly referring to his other side. "I suppose once you live for yourself devoid of any human companionship for a certain amount of time... you lose the ability to see sense in these kinds of things." He finished, this time in a briefly shut-eyed smile, finally coming to the end of the staircase.

"Do not be so hard on yourself," Gus smiled back out before re-turning his folded-armed eyes out in front of himself. "You have changed after all," the white-moustached gentleman pointed out as he chuckled, the pair passing through the ward's plaza and descending back down another staircase. "There's not many men or women in Yharnam that can say they've done that."

The Butcher couldn't help but smile back at his first companion since Stewart; a rare sight indeed.

As the pair made their final descent down a fourth staircase, their senses stiffened; the Butcher in particular narrowed his eyes, a very familiar chill running up his spine.

I know this feeling, he thought with a sense of dread.

There was deathly killing intent in the air.

"You sense it too...?" Gus mouthed out, his eyes darting around in search for the cause, his fingers twitching for his Whirligig Saw. "What is that...?"

"Get back old man...," the Butcher growled out in warning, stepping forward through the small area in which they both resided. "I'll deal with this."

It is after all, what I do best, he thought.

"Mm... Stewart..."

The pair of hunters snapped their eyes and their head to their right; barely acting in time, the Butcher managed to narrowly lean his head out of a plunging knife's way. He soon traced the knife's owner to find a familiar form standing before him; a young woman dressed in the ebony of the Healing Church.

Wasn't she the one Stewart met at Yahar'gul?

Adella, he thought in remembrance.

"M-My sweet hunter...," the long, black-haired woman grinned over at him as she pulled her crude weapon back, seemingly already covered in that familiar deep-red. "Your blood is tainted..." She chuckled endlessly and somehow maliciously as she very slowly advanced on the pair. The Butcher's eyes narrowed at her and he growled in a mixture of anger and frustration.

What am I supposed to do, he thought.

This is a survivor and a friend of his.

"You have to kill her...!" Gus hissed over at him in warning quietly, eyes similarly narrowing.

"Silence!" The Butcher suddenly barked back in his direction, his eyes widened and his grown frustration showing. "I can't just kill her...!" He similarly hissed back out, snapping his eyes back to glare at the approaching young woman.

Stewart would never forgive me, he thought.

"If only we did not trust each other." The Butcher couldn't help ponder to himself in his usual mirthless sense of humour.

"I can't..," Adella gasped out as she suddenly lunged forward; the Butcher's eyes widened as she gained a sudden surprising burst in speed, leaping forward. She crashed into him and the pair fell to the ground, struggling together endlessly. The Byrgenwerth Butcher growled in grit-teeth as he grasped at her right arm in an attempt to stop her attack; the widely grinning Adella however stuck her free left hand down on it, as if to empower her assault. The Butcher's eyes widened when the broad knife found its mark and pierced through his side, spitting up blood and a single pained grunt. "Can't help myself...!" The young nun finally finished her sentence by taking her now free hands and grasping the sides of his face contrastingly softly when compared to her earlier roughness.

The Butcher shut one of his eyes in sheer pain, his teeth grit roughly in the agony he suffered. Adella leaned her low-smiling face forward and closed her own eyes as she brushed her lips against his. Though the action was against his will he could do little in spite of it; he could only grunt in her contrastingly soft embrace, his blood spilling out into the streets of the Cathedral Ward.

SKRR

As if to interrupt the pair, Gus' noisy weapon whirred into frame, catching the wide-eyed woman on her right side; she yelped as the spinning blades caught her cheek. Blood and skin frayed off into the air and she immediately rolled on off the gasping Butcher, finally allowing him room and time with which to poke at his wound.

"Are you all right?" His elderly companion questioned, hovering his weapon over his injured friend; Gus' eyes never left the recovering form of the wide-eyed Adella as she turned to stand back up, staring over at him hatefully.

"Gagh!" The Butcher hissed out in pain as he grasped at the broad knife stuck in his side before yelling aloud as he yanked the blade out. It clattered to the pavement with a noisy echo, further of his blood following it. "She stabbed me...!" He seethed out, similarly hatefully as he spun a blood vial around his right hand, puncturing it into his wound with a light grunt. "Stewart saves you and you try to kill him?!" The former serial killer roared over in sudden outburst without thinking or realising his words' suggestions.

Thankfully for them both, Adella was not all there.

She used her gloved fingers to softly grasp at the two sides of her face, smiling strangely over at the pair before finally opening her mouth with which to respond. "Y-Your blood... sweet Stewart...," she addressed in her mystifying smile. "It is tainted," she repeated once more. "Allow me to settle it..."

"She's insane," Gus whispered as the growling Butcher pulled himself up to his two feet, staring firmly back at the young nun before him. "I don't know if it's the Blood Moon that's doing it... but whatever she once was is all gone."

"Bastard Moon Presence...," the Byrgenwerth Butcher hissed out angrily and in a heated tone of voice, his eyes narrowing at Adella but clearly referring to something else entirely. His curiosity piqued, Gus raised an eyebrow very briefly at the youth next to him before re-settling his eyes on their enemy. The Butcher pulled out his shortened Hunter's Axe, glaring forward. "I'm sorry, Stewart...," he apologised at first, his scowl dissolving in place of an eye-shutting frown. "But it is time for me to do... what I do best."

His words echoed out from his mouth to join the hard sound of the Hunter's Axe elongating.

~

"K-Kind hunter...," the frowning Noah stammered out in a frown, the first time having seen his companion in days. "That lady you sent over... she's dead. Killed stone dead."

The Butcher turned in his frown to face the little man before striding over and turning his eyes away from him. "Yes..." He began before briefly rotating his eyes around to face the blonde woman's corpse behind him, still ever sitting in her chair.

Arianna.

"No-one else shall suffer," the Butcher added however as he re-turned to face the little man below him. "I have made certain of this."

"Oh w-why...," Noah murmured out, lowering his bony fingers to rest across his crimson hooded face, as if to ward his negative emotions away. "I only wanted to help... just once in my life...," he gasped out, his body shuddering as if crying somehow. "They told me it wouldn't work... my mum always told me... I should have known. Gods, please... I'm so sorry..."

His words drowned out into mindless crying babble and, awkward in dealing with feelings, the Butcher could only frown and turn his eyes away from him, lowering them guiltily.

"I'm sorry." He could only offer before finally about-turning to leave the little man on his lonesome. "But not as much as Stewart will be..." He added silently to himself, his eyes briefly closing as he descended down the small staircase ahead of him. Leaning on the wall next to the open door leading to the Healing Church Workshop, Youthful Gus frowned back at the Butcher as he approached, his arms folded.

"I hope you're not blaming yourself," Gus insisted forward as he pulled his back off the wall to face the youth. "It had to be done."

"If I won't he will," the Butcher pointed out in his own hardened grimace, referring to his currently dormant other side. "I know he had feelings for that woman of all people."

Gus turned his own eyes downward in silent sadness, seemingly also unable to offer any condolences. Finally however, re-thinking his approach he re-raised his head and opened his mouth.

"Earlier before... you mentioned a name."

"I mention lots of names," the Butcher pointed out, raising a curious eyebrow. "Care to venture which one?"

"You said... 'Moon Presence'."

The former serial killer's eyebrows lifted up in brief surprise before he soon nodded in confirmation.

"What is that; should I know it...?" Gus questioned as he leant his folded-armed head to the side curiously.

"No; very few in this world do actually," the younger hunter responded, his Yharnam-refined accent soldiering through. "Sensei Gehrman, Sensei Laurence and perhaps myself... we are all that know the name 'Moon Presence'."

"And what exactly is this Moon Presence?"

"Remember the Orphan of Kos?" The Butcher frowned back as he took to very quietly pacing around Oedon Chapel, eyes facing forward. His curious-faced friend raised an eyebrow but nodded. "It is a being similar to that; a Great One," he further explained as he continued to pace, hard frown ever strong on his face. "But far stronger," the youth hissed out, his eyes narrowing to slits. "It is my benefactor," he claimed, this time stopping to turn his hat-wearing head to face the older warrior, his long brown hair whipping with him as he did. "The master puppeteer of the Hunter's Dream."

"The Hunter's... Dream... yes... you are a 'Dreamer'... aren't you...?" Gus murmured out thoughtfully, nodding from his knowledge gained from Simon earlier. The Byrgenwerth Butcher opted to nod in his firm frown. "I see! So this presence... it is the Great One that answered Sir Laurence's call years ago! He called it to save Yharnam!" The gasping Gus managed out, his eyes widening in sudden realisation, as if adding together two sums that had eluded him for an age.

The Butcher nodded a second time in his joyless expression.

"So then... how do you know all of this...?" Gus questioned, suddenly realising his younger friend's wealth of knowledge. The Butcher lowered his eyes in response, as if unsure on revealing his answer.

He eventually did however.

"I also knew of the Pthumerians and of their ancient scriptures; Sensei Laurence's research was vast," the former murderer finally divulged, soon folding his own arms as he turned his eyes away. They narrowed as he continued on, as if thinking back to earlier days. "My goal when I was killing in Byrgenwerth was to be their prophesied 'Last Hunter'," he claimed before finally re-turning back his eyes and his face to confront the older man before him. "I wanted to ascend humanity, Gus," the Butcher whispered out, baring his teeth as he spoke. The older man in question could only widen his eyes as he listened, as if shocked by his words. "Surely there must be some better fate for our doomed race than as fucking puppets for these Great Ones?" He further cursed and hissed out in his folded-armed scowl.

Youthful Gus could only lower his eyes in frowning, as if unsure on his own response. Finally however he did and frowned as he re-rose his head.

"What will you do now?" He questioned curiously, raising up an eyebrow. "Have your schemes changed since then?"

"Honestly that's what I was considering on the way back here from the Hunter's Nightmare," the Butcher acknowledged, turning his body to re-pace around the chapel. "I'm not sure now that I could live up to the task."

"How can you say that?!"

The Butcher, surprised, turned his curious and raised eyebrow frown on his older and wiser friend.

"You and Stewart decimated Kos' orphan!" The older man laughed out as he shook his head jollily. "You are by far the best candidate to save this land!"

Oddly silent for a few seconds, maybe two, the Butcher idly turned his eyes over to the ground in thought before finally re-opening his mouth to retort.

"I still have no attachment to these people," he answered in his hardened frown, shaking his head. "I care not whether they live or die." He admitted firmly.

Gus' smile dropped from his face in place of a sad frown. "But..."

"Stewart does," the former serial killer added, this time turning his eye back on his companion. "If anyone is to be the Pthumerians' 'Last Hunter'... it should be him."

Gus' smile soon returned to his expression, warming his face up. "Well... perhaps you underestimate yourself," the white-haired warrior chuckled before finishing his sentence. "If it wasn't for you at the fishing hamlet, I would surely have perished with Simon."

Though normally never without a scowl on his face, the Byrgenwerth Butcher could not help but slowly etch a low smirk on his face as he listened in a similar mood.

–

2

"Their chanting has stopped..." The Byrgenwerth Butcher frowned out thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the strangely derelict streets of Yahar'gul, Unseen Village. He stood just outside the prison he was once brought to earlier in his journey, having adventured there now with the similarly curious Youthful Gus in tow.

"Chanting?" The older fighter questioned as they slowly paced on down the ruined streets, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"Yes," the Butcher answered as he turned his eyes briefly on a demolished cart before re-facing the quiet front. "We were brought here once in our quest; I believe we could hear the sounds of men and women chanting, perhaps in some effort to summon something."

Gus' eyes widened in light alarm but he kept his shock to himself. "W-What were they...?" He trailed off in a worried tone of voice.

"We're still not sure," the Butcher shot back, turning to face his older companion in his usual hardened frown. "But I believe it has to do with the Moon Presence."

"Why do you think that?"

"'Hail the Nightmare'," the former serial killer explained very briefly, eliciting a silent raised eyebrow from the listening Gus. "A line of lyric I managed to decipher from the rest of their malevolent warbling."

"Hail the Nightmare...?" Gus frowned out, folding his left arm under his right elbow, bringing his right finger to rest softly upon his white moustache. "You think this faction is in league with the Presence?"

"No," the Butcher answered; Gus tilted his head in uncertainly, not quite following. "I don't believe they are working together. I believe the School of Mensis are perhaps hoping to join forces in some extent but only for their own benefit. The Presence has no interest in joining hands."

"How do you...?"

"The notes left for I and Stewart in the Hunter's Dream seem to point toward eliminating this 'School of Mensis'," the Butcher answered, briefly re-facing the older hunter before turning back to scowl as he always did. "'Madmen toil surreptitiously in rituals to beckon the moon. Uncover their secrets,'" the young man quoted the note he once found weeks back in his journey. "'The Mensis ritual must be stopped, lest we all become beasts.'"

"You worked all this out from notes?" Gus whispered out, his eyes narrowing in light shock.

"Not quite," the former murderer smirked in his direction before re-facing the front. "I meshed this knowledge together with what I already knew from Sensei Laurence's information; a lot of it made sense."

"So then... who is this... 'School of Mensis'?"

"There's not really much on them I'm afraid to say," the Byrgenwerth Butcher frowned out as he shook his head. "But I shall reveal what I know."

"Please."

"The School of Mensis are an organisation of people; men and women that run and control this area of Yahar'gul," the Butcher claimed as he narrowed his eyes at the strangely open pair of double doors at the end of the street. "It is said they were first formed after Sensei Laurence first caused the 'Schism' and departed from Sensei Willem's college."

Gus frowned out as he listened respectfully, nodding silently.

"At the time I believe the School was a separate and secret part of the church that Sensei Laurence utilised in order to ascend humanity, using the Old Blood they discovered in tombs to do the job."

"That would certainly explain a lot...," Gus murmured out as he let his eyes wander before soon re-facing his younger friend. "Yes? And then?"

"Similarly, within the School, once Sensei Laurence's mind became lost to him and he perished to the Hunter's Nightmare, 'the Choir' was formed, effectively splitting the Healing Church in two," the Butcher re-explained before facing his older companion and putting on a satisfied smirk as he did. "It would appear history repeats itself."

A side of Gus' own face upturned as he listened but only very briefly.

"Without Sensei Laurence's direction, the School of Mensis now have lost all sense of right and wrong," the Butcher claimed as he turned his new and familiar scowl forward. "They kidnap people, men and women in the Cathedral Ward for use in their inane rituals." He elucidated on in his hardened frown.

"I recall this...," Youthful Gus claimed in his acknowledging nod, his brow furrowing in recognition. "No-one was – and still is – safe from their reach."

The Butcher nodded in his firm scowl as he stalked down the streets, his eyes set hungrily on the open pair of doors long ahead of them. "'The Choir' is the other half of the Healing Church as it exists today," he continued on. "They similarly opt to ascend humanity just as the School do but their methods differ."

"In what respect?"

"While the School still utilise the Old Blood Sensei Laurence once discovered, the Choir pursues ascension through medium of experimentation and 'Insight' once left behind Great Ones," the former killer claimed. Gus' eyebrows lifted in recognition, soon realising the potential of Insight. "I believe they are closer than the School."

"With Insight? You'll get no argument from me...," Gus frowned out as he re-folded his arms, lowering his narrowed eyes in thought. "Not after the massacre we witnessed in the Hunter's Nightmare and all for Insight."

"Yes...," the Butcher nodded his head in his low scowl. "Sensei Willem was ruthless; he may have ordered the deaths of those poor bastards but he may as well have done the deed himself."

"Why wasn't he in the Nightmare?" Gus suddenly pointed out, his brow furrowing as he faced his younger friend. "Surely he is the one responsible? Or at least one of them?"

"Because he is still alive."

"He's what?" Gus gasped out, eyes widening. "How?!"

"In a sense," the Butcher amended his own sentence with a low smirk before regaining his low scowl. "I encountered him in Byrgenwerth earlier in my journey. He's as good as gone now," he explained, recalling his earlier expedition. "He was a wise man, that Sensei Willem...," the Butcher frowned out in quiet respect. "If only his charisma were as high as his intelligence..."

"Then people wouldn't have split with Sir Laurence hm...?" Gus smiled out lowly. "Yes I had heard his magnetism near unmatched in all of Yharnam; commoners and lords alike were drawn to him."

"If not for Sensei Laurence, Yharnam might still have life in it," the Byrgenwerth Butcher claimed in his saddened frown this time. "I think he knew this when he asked Stewart to end this cycle of grief and hatred."

Gus stared at his friend in a similar melancholic sense, hovering his eyes downward before finally re-opening his mouth. "He was still a great man in spite of all that, I think," Gustav spoke his mind in a light smile. "Anyone I asked in Yharnam never gave me a negative thing to say about him. They miss him. I miss him," the elderly hunter amended as he smiled lowly and sadly. "I'm not surprised that he blames himself for what happened; he has paid for this in his suffering in the Hunter's Nightmare."

With very little positive to add to the conversation, the Butcher could only frown silently in response. He briefly eyed his older, smiling companion before re-facing the front.

"If what we do here now aids his effort in saving this land... then I will assist you and Stewart in any endeavour you do." Gus quietly gave his oath, turning to smile at his partner. The Byrgenwerth Butcher gave him one wan smile before turning back to his front.

"People in Yharnam never really deserved saving in my eyes...," the former serial killer explained very briefly as he shook his head. Gus couldn't help but drop his smile similarly as he listened. "If it wasn't for Stewart and everything he's done for these people, even for myself," he added before regaining his slow smile on his face. "I would have pegged him alongside these people."

Youthful Gus couldn't help but smile good-naturedly in response to his companion's heartfelt words before soon realising their proximity to the arena ahead of them. "Sir Butcher..."

"Just 'Butcher' is fine," the named killer grinned out amiably before frowning also as he faced the front for the umpteenth time. His eyes narrowed however as he glared along with them. "Yes... I see it too." He claimed as they stopped marching, their eyes scanning the suspiciously large site before them.

It looked just like a battle arena.

"Do you think...?"

"They know we're here," the Butcher hissed out as he darted his eyes up at the balconies overlooking the arena to the right and left. "That's why the streets are empty..."

"What's our plan of attack here?" Gus questioned as he reached for the iron mace on his back. "What do you reckon will happen here?"

"I'm not entirely sure...," he replied in his similarly whispering voice, eyes narrowing forward. "But I suspect an ambush; we should split up."

"Is that the best course of action?"

"So long as you can handle yourself," the Butcher shot back in his low, suggestive and friendly grin. Gus couldn't help but smirk back before finally nodding alongside the youth. "You take a look on those balconies and deal with anything if there's anything up there," the young hunter ordered before growling as he narrowed his eyes forward. "I'll deal with the meat of the issue here."


	22. Destroyer and Redeemer

Chapter 22: Destroyer and Redeemer  
School of Mensis Inquisition Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Moonlit Melody" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"The One Reborn" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 1 (First Half).  
"End of Small Sanctuary" - Silent Hill III OST. Scene 2 (First & Second Halves).

\--

With knowledge gained from the Byrgenwerth Butcher, Youthful Gus attempts to piece together what is already known and what is unknown of Yharnam and its dream.

Having left the Hunter's Nightmare together, alive and well, the two last survivors of the journey join hands in their next endeavour. They turn their eyes on the emptied streets of Yahar'gul, Unseen Village and the organisation which controls and runs it.

The School of Mensis.

Once a classified division of the Healing Church under the First Vicar's overseeing, the School of Mensis' goal was to ascend humanity through use of the Old Blood which Laurence himself discovered. However, when Laurence's sins eventually caught up with him and he was damned to the Hunter's Nightmare for them, the School soon lost all sense of honour and ethics. With the use of their muscle and knowledge they very openly kidnap people in the Cathedral Ward and surrounding areas for use in their mad experiments, still looking for a way to ascend humanity.

It is with this in mind that Stewart, the Butcher and Youthful Gus all join forces in an attempt to uncover their secrets and perhaps even lessen their clutching grip on the city of Yharnam...

\--

Scene 1

Youthful Gus grunted as he slammed his iron mace across one of the last bell maidens chiming away in the balconies that he patrolled. He turned his blood covered face and body to aim his voice down at the main battle arena below on his far-left, eyes narrowing.

"Now Butcher! It's safe!"

Hearing his call, the Byrgenwerth Butcher couldn't help but put on a satisfied, low smirk as he stared on up at the monstrosity looming over him. Eclipsing even the blood-red moon that would otherwise be overshadowing him, the Butcher extended his ever trusty Hunter's Axe with his low grin as he quickstepped in evasion to his right.

The huge moaning monster dropped a long and deep portion of harmful blood, as if part attack and part injury.

"This was the best the School of Mensis could conjure up...?" The Butcher murmured out in his low smirk before chuckling lowly as he quickstepped a second time, this time toward the creature. "Don't... make me...," the young man began lowly as he passed under the groaning corpse-like behemoth staring down at him. The Butcher pulled his elongated axe backward to spin with before widening his eyes as he struck the creature's weak spot beneath its very body. "Laugh!"

SQUELCH-SQUASH

Along with the satisfying sound his weapon created as it made contact, the moaning monster dropped pathetically to the ground, smashing it apart noisily as it did so. The Byrgenwerth Butcher stood up straight, covered in its entrails and blood. He spun his long Hunter's Axe around his head before clanging it noisily into the ground next to him, his unused left arm clenched at his side.

"'The One Reborn'?" He questioned on down at the gasping and coughing mass of corpses laying before him. His eyes narrowed down at it, as if looking on down and disapproving of the creature. "This was the apex of the School of Mensis? The greatest achievement they could scrounge up with all those kidnappings? All that usage of the Old Blood?" The young man asked before scrunching up his face in a very obvious show of disgust. "Pathetic..." He hissed out as he spat down to his side.

As if called by his actions, the silent Gus plummeted down toward them his Whirligig Saw combined and buzzing noisily.

SKRRR-SQUELCH-CLANG

The One Reborn gave a long and blood-curdling scream, echoing long and loud into the night's air and through the derelict streets of Yahar'gul. The Butcher's long black coat, his similarly long hair and even the hat upon his head flapped wildly as the creature screamed its last, soon flashing into bright light. As they both had long expected, drops of blood wildly descended down upon them from the skies as if triggered by its defeat. The Butcher opened his mouth as he turned his eyes similarly to the red-mooned heavens, eyes glaring.

"Prey... slaughtered."

~

"That was well done!" Youthful Gus smiled as he uncoupled his mace from his saw, placing the serrated weapon upon his back as always. "You have an eye for combat my young friend!" He complimented the youth next to him before finally turning to watch him. His white eyebrow shot upwards in curiosity when he found the youth staring heatedly and silently up at the long staircase opened before them. "Butcher?"

As if called to action and found with his hand where it shouldn't have been, the glaring young man changed his expression to a light frown as he turned to face the older warrior.

"Hm?"

"What's...?" Gus couldn't help but smile lowly before chuckling as he turned briefly to watch the staircase. "What's so interesting?"

"Oh," the Butcher frowned back out before re-facing the front in his hardened glare. "I have a feeling... that's all."

"I see...," the older and seemingly wiser man nodded in his frown before re-growing a grin on his face and folding his arms, placing his iron mace on his belt. "Then we'd better go and confirm it then won't we?"

Surprised, the Butcher blinked in his direction, following him with his eyes. He couldn't help but chuckle lowly however when he caught the grin on the older man's face before soon following. When the pair ascended the staircase their mood soon both changed.

Resting in a chair not far from where they now stood sat a strange sight indeed.

Seemingly a lifeless cadaver lay in the seat, head held lowly and arms reclining in the chair's armrests. Though the corpse seemed to wear raggedy clothing as half expected, it also wore a very odd and long vertical cage upon its head.

"What in the name of Formless Oedon...?" Gus mouthed out in half shock, half bewilderment. "W-What is...?"

"Sensei Micolash I see...," the Byrgenwerth Butcher finally spoke up from his hard-frowning position, his torso leaned to the side with his clenched pair of fists. Gus turned in his wide-eyed frown to find him slowly marching toward them. "Just as I had thought..." The youth murmured on out as he stopped his advance just shy of the corpse itself, leaning his body down to crouch and stare at it.

"Micolash...?" Gus murmured out, his eyes narrowing and his brow furrowing in recognition. "Wasn't that the name of a lecturer in-?"

"Byrgenwerth Royal College, yes," the Butcher finished for his companion, resting his arms across his raised knees before he soon stood himself back up to loom over the laying body beneath them. "I believe he was among those 'associates' mentioned that beckoned the Moon Presence with Sensei Laurence."

"Is that why he's dead?"

"Oh he's not dead I suspect."

Gus' eyes widened and he re-turned to face the younger hunter, surprised. The Butcher instead glared on down at the lifeless body beneath them.

"If what I suspect is also true... then our next move... is..."

With his own words the youth reached down to softly grasp at the corpse's raggedy shouldered clothing. As if reacting to his very touch, the cadaver began to glow and a notable noise exuded from within. Gus couldn't help but gasp as he took a bewildered step back, eyes widening in a mix of alarm and worry. The Butcher stayed his course and scowled lowly as he watched Micolash's corpse glow endlessly.

Eventually all noise was lost to him and Gus' alarmed and muffled call came echoing on after him as all turned to darkness around him.

–

2

Stewart's eyes widened as colour finally returned to him. He held back from gasping aloud as he very quickly scanned his eyes around himself and his current surroundings.

I recognise this place, he thought to himself.

Darkness covered his surroundings and forced the youth to procure a torch from his hunter's garb. The area soon lit up and, as it did, his recognition kicked in once again.

A table behind him with many laboratory instruments lay strewn around it as well as the floor. Next to it stood a large desk carrying many books inside the cupboards.

This was the Byrgenwerth Royal College, he thought.

The Lecture Hall portion of it.

But why here?

Having pieced together previous events through his spectating, he soon added all of the points together and turned his eye to the familiar pair of office double-doors behind him. Just as he took his first step forward however, an abrupt and echoing noise made the youth snap his head 'round in response. The gasping and similarly frowning Youthful Gus exited from an arcane portal of some kind.

The same make that I passed through, Stewart briefly thought in his light frown.

"Butcher...," Gus initially mistook in a gasping frown as he pulled himself back up to his feet, dusting himself off. "Don't go on ahead like that again; worried me."

"Sorry," Stewart chuckled good-naturedly but with a wan smile in response. "I think he knew we'd be fine somehow."

"Stewart...?" Gus frowned back out in reply, tilting his head and his ear to listen to the youth's voice. He shook his head in a lightly smiling sigh. "If it wasn't for your foreign accent I wouldn't be able to tell you both apart."

The younger hunter couldn't help but smile back, even if a forced one; he about-turned and continued his earlier march toward the double-doors, his mood seemingly changed. Though Gus watched him suspiciously for a second or two as the exit soon opened before them he opted not to bring the matter up.

"Who's there?!"

The two hunters turned their heads upward in recognition of the voice calling down from further up ahead; not far from their position stood a man, perhaps older than Stewart and yet younger than Gus. Dressed in the similar black to the two hunters he frowned over suspiciously at the pair as he hovered his torch over at them uncertainly. A similarly ebony mortarboard hung upon his head, as if belonging to the very college itself. When Stewart saw him however his eyebrows lifted in recognition and his weak smile returned to him.

"Ah! Stewart!" The scholar smiled in his direction before finally daring to take his earlier hesitant steps forward. "And... who is this fine gentleman?" The relatively young man smiled once more, this time as he approached the pair turning to face the folded-armed Gus.

"This is Gus," Stewart smiled amiably as always. "Gus, this is Armand." The youth continued on to make the proper introductions. The frowning Gus put on a light smile of his own as he unfolded his arms to briefly shake the scholar's hand before him in meeting.

"A pleasure." The elderly warrior beamed back. The newly re-introduced Armand nodded in his own sign of greeting as he took his hand in his own.

"We met in the Hunter's Nightmare." Stewart added on lightly, this time putting on a cloudy frown on his expression.

"The Hunter's... Nightmare...?" Armand murmured back out in parroting, raising a curious eyebrow ever upward.

"I suppose we'd better fill him in, hm?" Gus pointed out as he shortly swivelled his head 'round to smile at his younger comrade in arms. Stewart chuckled lightly before nodding as he re-faced his earlier companion. Armand put on a frown of his own however as he about-turned, presumably to lead the pair off.

"Come; I have a small room I pass the time in. We can talk in there."

~

"I see...," Armand nodded from his seat, his black robed arms folded from inside the cramped room the three men now rested in. Three gargantuan desks lay spread around the room, leaving little area to wiggle but for a few spots. "I'm very sorry to hear what happened to your comrade Simon."

Stewart smiled wanly back in response but lowered his eyes, almost as if guilty in some sense.

"It was no-one's fault," Youthful Gus threw in, his eyebrow raised in seeming suspicion and curiosity as he regarded the sitting youth next to him. "We were attacked and ambushed by a man of the Healing Church; an assassin sent to protect their horrendous secrets." The older man finished as he turned his eye on the curious-faced Armand.

"I'm sure it was not an easy battle to be certain," Armand responded, unfolding his own arms to place them softly on his two knees. "But at least you both came out alive and well. That nightmare at least is now slain."

"But at what cost?" Stewart finally opted to weigh in. His voice was lowered but loud enough for the pair to regard; they turned to find him grasping at the trousers on his legs, as if for some kind of comfort. His capped head similarly lowered to match his seeming low morale. "First Gascoigne and his family... then Simon, Eileen and Arianna...," he trailed off as he shook his head softly, his eyes briefly shutting. "For all I know even Gilbert could be dead by now."

"Those deaths are not yours to claim to, nor even the Butcher's," Gus shot in with, his arms still folded. His eyes narrowed at the low-headed hunter next to him. "If you choose to go down this road... you may not come back from it," the wiser fighter claimed in his hardened, teaching tone. Stewart finally re-raised his head up to face his companion, frowning. "I have seen many fall to their own brand of failure; you can't let that happen to yourself."

"Sir Gus is right Stewart," Armand chimed in with agreement with the older gentleman, nodding in emphasis. "If you dwell in the house of failure for too long... you may find yourself unable to leave it."

I know they're right, Stewart thought to himself in objective agreement, pulling his own head up to face the wiser scholar ahead, forcing another smile.

"But I still can't shake this guilt."

Pictures of Alfred, Simon, Eileen and, of course, Arianna flashed through his head as he frowned in sadness.

Who next?

"So... you have both come far and wide to have made this berth," Armand began a second time however as he turned his frown on the pair in general. "To have ended a century-long nightmare and on just three men's backs... well done, honestly and truly." The scholar lightly smiled as he nodded his head forward in a show of reverence and respect. Though Stewart could only smile weakly back in response, Gus opened his mouth to respond to the younger man.

"It has been a truly arduous journey," the older warrior nodded in his own frown before soon upturning it into a light smile. "But with Simon's unfortunate loss we gained another ally where we thought not to look for one."

Armand raised an ebony eyebrow up at the well-mannered gentleman curiously. "Oh?"

"The Byrgenwerth Butcher has finally opted to trust us both," Gus responded in his light confident grin before soon swivelling his head 'round on the blinking Stewart. "Isn't that right?"

Armand couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock. "Is this true?"

"U-Um y-yes," Stewart chuckled out as he rubbed the back of his head; a sign of his old habit. "We finally came to terms; we can trust each other."

"Since then the two have been near unstoppable," Youthful Gus explained briefly but excitedly. He spread his hands across his thighs as he grinned in his next words. "It truly raises the morale."

"That's incredible Stewart!" Armand's bewildered frown evolved into an elated beam. "This could mean-" he began initially before blinking mid-speech and regaining his surprised frown. "But then...?"

Gus and Stewart couldn't help but exchange a very brief raised eyebrow together in response to his odd reaction. Armand's brow furrowed as he very suddenly and alarmingly quickly leaned over to the table behind them, grasping at an old-time long scroll. Stewart and Gus both couldn't help but lean their heads across and forward in some attempt to catch sight of the apparently interesting scroll in his hands but, soon, the scholar provided.

As he always had.

The ebony-haired academic of Byrgenwerth Royal soon swivelled the ancient scroll he carried in his left hand, this time carrying it singularly. His brow remained curiously furrowed as he displayed the current page's contents; Stewart leaned forward to narrow his eyes at it.

It was an illustration of some ancient kind.

Drawn as if a symbol to be interpreted by later generations, like hieroglyphics, it stood out like a sore thumb. Painted with surprising skill, the illustration depicted two scenes; one was a side-by-side drawing of two non-specific featured faces and below that was the most interesting one.

A lone figure, dressed in the familiar black of night; a hunter's apparel stood in a lone garden that looked dreamingly familiar to the watching Stewart. Above the figure loomed the familiar blood-red moon that Gus and Stewart both had come to recognise in Yharnam. Descending down from its cosmos however was a much more frightening sight indeed. The watching Stewart's hand raised up to grasp at his opened mouth, his eyes widening. He stifled back a shocked gasp when he saw it.

A horrifying entity was drawn high across the skies, its own surprisingly sparse and skinny body superseded by its moon. Its two long arms were held similarly diagonally downward as it seemingly descended down with its blood-red planet, its target and destination unmistakeably the garden in which the nameless hunter stood in. Though it carried two arms and legs as per any human in Yharnam, the tentacles which hovered from its similarly long body confirmed its already obvious identity as a Great One. Similar tentacles of what seemed to be hair rested on its head and, as Stewart's eyes lowered down in silent horror, he found a curiously open ribcage caked in what appeared to be blood.

"Abomination...," Youthful Gus muttered out as he raised his head to his diagonal right, turning his nose up at the disturbing illustration. "Even the name 'Great One' is far too altruistic for a being as fearsome as that..." He trailed off, his disgust masking his thinly veined dread.

"Can't say I disagree," Armand chuckled in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere before soon regaining his ever serious frown. "However... I'm sure you've both noticed..."

"Yes...," Gus replied as he nodded before very slowly exchanging his contrasting expression with the wide-eyed Stewart's. "We see it..."

On the illustration above, the two halved faceless figures wore exactly the same clothes right down to the hat they wore.

A carbon copy of the bewildered Stewart's.

"A-Armand...," the named youth began to venture forward in a light wince. "How... old... are these drawings?"

"They are of Pthumerian origin," the knowledgable scholar answered him in his fastidious frown, soon pulling and rotating the scroll he carried in his left hand, re-examining it with narrowed eyes. "So, realistically, their age could be as old as the land itself; perhaps even older." He added as he re-rose his eyes to face the pair of curious hunters before him.

"If nothing else before clinched it... this certainly does," Gus frowned out before turning his head to face his younger companion. "Simon was right all along Stewart; you must be the Pthumerians' 'Last Hunter'."

"N-No, s-surely-"

"It would certainly link up with the translations," Armand softly and politely interrupted the youth, nodding in agreement with the similarly frowning Gus. "'Destroyer and redeemer, pawn and messiah. Two halves born of one hunter; the Last Hunter'," the scholar spoke from mere memory, as if the paragraph from which he declared had been hardwired into him. He couldn't help but upturn his similarly comfy frown into a light smile, leaning his head as he stared back at the wide-eyed Stewart. "Just as Sir Gus says," Armand added in his amiable expression. "I believe they foretell a coming confrontation between you and this Great One... whatever it is." He finished, turning his own disgusted eyes on the depiction of the cagey creature.

"That would be the 'Moon Presence' that the Butcher informed us about; his benefactor," Gus frowned on out as he re-folded his arms. "You know, don't you?" He asked the similar-faced Stewart; the youth blinked once as he turned briefly to face him.

"Y-Yeah," the young hunter smiled back in response, nodding. He placed his own hands across his resting thighs and his smile soon descended to a frown. "He called it... 'the master puppeteer of the Hunter's Dream'."

"The Hunter's Dream... yes!" Armand parroted out as he placed the scroll back on its earlier table, turning back to widen his eyes at the youth in front of him. "A name that only a privileged few can get a-hold of. The word 'dream' crops up a lot in these Pthumerian translations."

"It's... funny," Gus finally spoke up, chuckling lowly as he shook his head lightly, shutting his eyes briefly as if in thought. "I had never thought of much of it at the time but..."

"Yes...?" Armand questioned him, raising a curious eyebrow upward.

"A former priest of the Healing Church... Father Gascoigne..."

Stewart's ears perked up in response to the name he soon recognised.

"I remember the reputation that man had gotten," Gus began his explanation in a hardened frown as he slowly re-rose his head back up. "Looking back I suspect that Sir Laurence was behind it all; all the propaganda to bolster the peoples' faith in both Gascoigne and the Healing Church," he explained, as if from memory before chuckling and shaking his head. "They threw around the words 'messiah' and 'redeemer' a lot; I figured it was simply his way of giving the commoners a hero to look up to and a figure to keep them from rebelling," he chuckled before shaking his head a second time, re-opening his eyes. "Who would have guessed that the propaganda had true origins?"

"Yes, I remember stories myself," Armand recalled in his own contrasting light frown. "The Healing Church's grip on Yharnam was once very long indeed."

Stewart's eyes remained in their widened, surprised state as he listened, near unable to believe any of it.

"I only took Father Gascoigne's hat as a lesson for myself to be perfectly honest," the youth re-explained, this time voicing his reasoning to his companions. "I had failed in my first goal when I woke up in Yharnam, an amnesiac," he frowned on out, his eyes lowering as he did. The listening Gus and Armand opted to remain silent in politeness. "If I always had that hat on me...," the young hunter reasoned with at first before soon re-rising his head back up to face the similarly frowning Armand. "Then only I would know; it helped to drive me on."

"I think it brought you down," Gus finally shot out with, his arms still folded. The listening pair raised their eyebrows, turning to look at the hard-faced hunter. "What good will do of constantly remaining in the house of failure, son?"

Unable to find a worthy enough combination of words, Stewart couldn't help but slowly lower his eyes in his saddened frown.

He was right, he ruminated silently to himself.

"Regardless of your reason you have lived up to the legend," Armand opted to throw in positively, smiling as he did so. "The Hunter's Nightmare has finally been quelled and the spirits there can at last receive some respite; have faith in yourself," he smiled on in his approving nod. Though Stewart smiled back at him it was very clearly a forced one. "Now...," the Byrgenwerth scholar began out, this time with a new hardened frown. "Regarding the School of Mensis... we should work on our next course of action..."


	23. Wind of Destruction

Chapter 23: Wind of Destruction  
Search for Mergo Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Moonlit Melody" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Hot Wind Blowing (Instrumental)" - Metal Gear Rising; Revengeance OST. Scene 2 (First Half).

\--

'Destroyer and redeemer. Pawn and messiah. Two halves born of one hunter; the Last Hunter.'

An ancient Pthumerian prophecy come to life in the dreaming fourth apprentice to Gehrman; Stewart Forbes. A young man once a student at Byrgenwerth Royal College with a bright future ahead of him in spite of his murderous second side; the Byrgenwerth Butcher, a notorious serial killer. Now working in complete mutual trust together, Stewart and the Butcher return to Yharnam with Youthful Gus in tow from their earlier adventure in the Hunter's Nightmare.

Pressing on through Yahar'gul, Unseen Village the two are confronted by a monstrosity by the name of 'The One Reborn'. Easily dispatching the monster, the pair press on further forward and find themselves returning to the Byrgenwerth Royal Lecture Hall. Once inside Gus meets the residing Armand, the Abandoned and Stewart and Armand catch up. Armand opts to inform the two hunters of the Pthumerian legend himself via the vast research that Laurence himself had once procured. Within this research however, Stewart's blood grows chilly upon the Pthumerians' depiction of the Moon's Presence.

A frightening force indeed.

Said to be stronger even than Kos' orphan in the Hunter's Nightmare, perhaps even stronger than other Great Ones. The Moon Presence has enjoyed insurmountable amounts of hunts, gaining valuable blood echoes from each hunter that has seen through its dream including such names as Eileen, hunter of hunters and Djura, retired hunter.

The scholar Armand explains the current chaotic state of the School of Mensis; a lawless and tumultuous organisation with no direction. Languishing inside a similar plane of reality that Stewart and Gus are familiar with however, Armand claims that they hide inside a different dimension to the real world entirely. And it is within this dimension that the way forward lies; the three soon come to agreement that the only way to save the land of Yharnam is to cut the strongest arm laid across it.

In this case, the School of Mensis and their Nightmare.

His eyes set on the Great One infant inside its dream, a child by the name of Mergo, Stewart pushes down the growing dread inside his body and forces himself to press forward...

\--

Scene 1

"The Nightmare of Mensis."

Stewart resisted from gasping, his eyes widening as the area flashed a bright white. Similar to when he once entered the Lecture Hall, the portal flashed before him as he walked through. As he did, the Byrgenwerth Butcher's words echoed throughout his mind and he narrowed his eyes forward determinedly as he did.

"The Nightmare of Mensis huh...?" He murmured out, his eyes soon scanning the area; multiple horrifying depictions of screaming faces littered the small cave he resided in. As if to jump-scare him however, the expected portal re-opened up behind him before soon closing again; he about-turned his head and smiled as the gasping Youthful Gus emerged from it in a kneeling state. He drew in air sharply before blowing it back out as he forced himself back up, smacking his buff chest with his free left arm twice as if in a show of physical strength.

"I'll never get used to that...," he managed out, his eyebrows lifting up briefly as he murmured his words out. Stewart couldn't help but chuckle humouredly in response before the narrow-eyed Gus nodded his head forward. "Let's do this."

Even as they emerged from the small cave from its twists and turns, Stewart still couldn't help but drop his cheery smile when they passed by the numerous twisted faces and expressions drawn across the wall.

Nightmare is right, he thought to himself.

When they both silently ascended the hill forward, Stewart found himself gauging the area around him; it seemed to be a place devoid of any real man-made construction. The location looked forced together, as if crudely built to contain a single purpose.

Suits the School, he ruminated onward.

"Sh!"

The wide-eyed Stewart turned his eye on the contrastingly narrow-eyed Gus next to him; he stopped moving almost immediately and traced his stare. Above and forward stood what appeared to be a two legged werewolf staring directly at a bare tree before it, gripping a lit torch in its left hand.

What the hell was that thing?

If the creature was aware of the pair's presence it made no signal to announce it. Gus exchanged a nodding and narrow-eyed frown with the similarly silent Stewart before very slowly and carefully sneaking forward. Stewart similarly slowly snaked his sword from its firm sheath on his back in an attempt to create no noise; he succeeded and soon attempted to join his comrade. The two black-dressed hunters bent their bodies low to work with their stealthy approach and, as they did, the werewolf-humanoid merely stared ahead of itself, seemingly unaware.

Gus, very quietly and carefully, raised up his iron mace from his Whirligig Saw high into the air, eyes narrowed. He stayed in his pose for a second before finally widening his eyes and slashing the mace across the air roughly.

SQUELCH

The creature grunted out in gurgling blood as it descended down to its knees, opening it up for further assault; Gus' urgent look made the watching Stewart quickstep forward before obliging.

SQUELCH-SMASH

The poor monster gave out a pained and quiet gurgle as it was sent sprawling across the ground, landing just shy of the tree it once found so fascinating. Though Stewart relaxed his senses having finished his visceral attack, Gus gasped and quickstepped backward in evasion. The watching youth in response could only raise a curious eyebrow before soon realising why he did.

He was not long behind him.

Strange otherworldly snakes crawled out of the monster's fresh carcass, hissing as they leapt up at the wide-eyed Stewart. Thinking quickly the youth shot up to combine his silver sword with the sheath on his back, forming Ludwig's Holy Blade; he grunted as he smashed the weapon down, brutally killing two of the three snakes. The third leapt at the narrow-eyed Gus and he just barely managed to lean his body out of the way to avoid it. In his evasion however he made it count with a swift counter-attack; the older warrior spun expertly with his iron mace, slashing at the squealing snake as he did so. The last of the poor serpents was sent careering through the air, its body splattering across one of the raised stalactites littering through the area.

The two men both exchanged a nodding frown as they turned to continue on marching through the area. As they approached the next landmark however; a long and semi-steep hill above them, Stewart's eyes were drawn up to a lit-up window overlooking the pair.

"Hide!"

The Butcher's words.

He did not wait for confirmation; the youth grabbed his companion and the pair dove into one of the many walls littered around the nearby area. Though they both stayed silent, the overwhelming noise of the glowing window above them made quite a din; a notable echo of a dim kind travelled down toward their position. The two werewolf-like creatures that stood above them noticed a noise and snorted once as they moved forward to investigate. Stewart and Gus exchanged a silent, wide-eyed frown together, as if horrified in some sense.

As the werewolves approached, the sound of iron and steel piercing flesh echoed alongside the dim hum emanating from the lit window. Stewart craned his neck to quickly check the situation and his eyebrows lifted when he found the two werewolves bodies (specifically their heads) pierced by what looked like hovering blood-knives of all things.

"What the...?" Stewart murmured out as he watched, eyes narrowing as he kept his distance. The pair of wolf-like humanoids gave out one final pained grunt as the pain seemingly grew to be too much and they dropped to the ground, dead.

Youthful Gus exchanged his own terrified and wide-eyed frown with the gulping Stewart's.

"Could this be... Frenzy perhaps?"

"Gus is correct. Do not allow yourself to be out in the open for too long. Or that will happen to you both."

"Yeah," Stewart agreed with his older comrade, the Byrgenwerth Butcher's words of wisdom echoing in his mind. "Whatever it is, we shouldn't let that happen."

"I've read about it," the knowledgeable older man frowned out forward. "When the mind is given far too much other-wordly wisdom at once, their brain is said to overload. Blood from the body travels in a desperate attempt to replenish what was lost and, when too much is there, it implodes from the inside. Thus... 'Frenzied'." Gus explained very briefly in his hardened frown. Stewart nodded as he hovered his head over back to his left to narrow his eyes up at the now dark window far from their position.

If we can get up there, he thought, then maybe we can stop that thing.

Only one way to find out.

"Did you bring any sedatives?"

Gus' sudden query made the youth turn in a blinking frown; soon realising his question however he reached into his hunter's garb. Pulling out small liquid bottles he smiled over at the white-haired hunter and lightly tossed one for the older man.

"Jolly good show." The wizened fighter nodded, pocketing the bottle for himself before readying himself to stand.

As expected, the pair soon cut across the field in modest measure together. With a similarly careful nature, they passed through each alcove and recess with prudent speed. As they ascended the steep hill and soon came to a large building however, they both noted the area had grown out of surveillance of the dreaded window they had been evading.

"Thank god." Gus gasped out as he rested his left arm across the stone wall next to the iron double-doors, facing the way they previously came. He huffed and puffed, seemingly out of breath. Stewart couldn't help but put on a light humoured grin as he pushed the pair of doors apart with a loud creak and crank.

"What's the matter Gus? Having trouble keeping up?"

His impudent words made the older warrior raise a curious but grinning eyebrow of his own up.

"Hardly," he chuckled back as he re-turned back to join his younger companion. "I just don't like running missions, that's all."

"I can see that...!" The youth grinned back as he finally parted the doors with an effort-filled grunt. They creaked to life and the pair were greeted with an interesting sight indeed.

There were two entrances including the one they currently stood through; a modest little foyer lit up with candles before them leading to a small staircase. Unable to see much past it from their current position the two hunters lost their grins and put on serious frowns as they very slowly marched forward, looking around for any traps or unhappy surprises.

Stewart's eyes however double-took to his front.

A huge arachnid-like creature hung from the ceiling by its own design, joined by a small herd of around six or seven smaller spiders.

"Ever experienced arachnophobia Gus?"

The youth's sudden question made him raise a curious eyebrow upward.

"What kind of question is-?"

His words were soon interrupted by his own silent, widening eyes; tracing his companion's stare, he soon found himself halting his own march.

"'Nightmare' of Mensis is right..." The older man muttered out, his brow furrowing up at the silent monsters hanging from their own technique.

As if to respond to the pair's comments, the first and larger spider finally moved to action; it dropped with surprising speed to its long and many legs, multiple eyes narrowing at its two enemies.

CLINK

Stewart's Holy Blade combining made the silent Gus jump very lightly, turning to frown at the hard-scowling youth.

"Come on!"

With that call, the youth pressed forward; the larger arachnid shot its many limbs forward in an attempt to stab the young hunter but he smoked through with Gehrman's Art of Quickening. He slashed noisily and painfully at the monster with his combined great-sword, drawing a pained and echoing screech from it as he did. The creature spun its body around as if to spin attack him in spite of his evasion measures but before it even could, its unfortunate body met with the second interruption to its attacks.

SKRRR-SQUELCH

The similarly scowling Youthful Gus savagely spun his Whirligig Saw into the crawling insect's body and any unfortunate smaller spider in his way. The saw easily ate up the screeching flesh of each monster that crossed his path. As he finished the last one, Gus roughly jerked his savage weapon diagonally up to his left, their flesh and blood flying through the air as he did so.

"Yeesh...," Stewart managed out as he used his free left hand to rub the back of his head nervously, examining the barbaric damage caused by his companion. "Didn't even need any help..."

"You damn right." Gus shot back cheekily and humouredly as he raised his demanding weapon up to rest across his left shoulder, putting on a confident grin. The listening Stewart couldn't help but grin silently in response before the pair soon burst into mutual laughter together.

~

"Stop...!"

Gus' sudden quiet and hissing call made the blinking Stewart do just as he asked; the youth briefly faced his older comrade and soon traced his stare. Dead ahead of their current position and down the long bridge they walked stood a lone figure.

A man.

Seemingly not dressed for the weather at all, the pair barely managed to infer mere robes adorned on the male's form, seemingly as if from Byrgenwerth itself. Resting on his back was a familiar form however that Stewart immediately took note of and recognised.

Ludwig's Holy Blade.

As if reading his very thoughts, Stewart slowly turned to face the similarly frowning Gus with a confirming nod; in response, the older hunter moved to his companion's right and further off the bridge. Leaping up, he soon disappeared into the background, climbing across instead of travelling the traditional way. Stewart opted to begin walking forward very slowly, his eyes narrowing forward as he did so. His black boots clicked noisily and, seemingly hearing and seeing his approach, the nameless man standing guard began to follow his footsteps in a similar fashion.

The hard-frowning Stewart found himself glaring back at the glasses the nameless warrior wore. He carried his silver sword in his hand, the larger sheath resting comfortably on his back. He wore simple business-wear trousers to match the Byrgenwerth scholar attire he also carried so well on his body. A large arcane firearm hung on his left hand; Stewart's eyes glowered over at it very briefly as he marched.

That would be difficult to deal with, he thought.

When the two finally began to meet half-way down the bridge their pace both quickened to faster steps before, eventually, they ran at one another.

CLINK

The two warriors combined their silver swords into the great-sword resting on their backs just in time as they finally met one another. Their eyes expanded roughly as they widely slashed diagonally at the air as they passed one another with similar grunts of effort.

CLANG

–

2

Stewart spun his body around in a 180 degree angle to face his similar-moving enemy; the nameless, spectacle-wearing warrior merely glared back at him wordlessly. The two almost looked like mirror reflections of one another's fighting style right down to the weapon they both wielded. Sensing a problem rising from this very fact, Stewart grunted as he shot his great-sword up to rest on his back. Yanking his silver sword back out from it loudly he broke into a sudden sprint forward.

The nameless hunter before him stayed the course with his own great-sword however; he ran toward his right in an opposite direction. Soon reaching a long decorated wall between the two and the bridge, Stewart used it as a base to leap off of; Glasses followed his movements perfectly and grunted as he used the same decoration on the opposite side. The two acrobatically leapt for one another side-by-side in an attempt to attack but Glasses made the first move.

He yelled with effort as he spun his body around in a side-flip, widely horizontally slashing at the air. Stewart bent his own body unnaturally to avoid the attack before grunting once as he spin-kicked vertically back the way.

SMACK

Glasses was struck in the face and he went sailing toward the ground; not opting to be knocked down by the swift strike however, he caught the ground as he rolled roughly before soon pushing off of it to side-flip through the air. As if called by his retreat however, a near invisible dot plummeted down without warning from the skies, a cacophonous saw screeching.

SKRRR-CLANG

Youthful Gus re-appeared and he narrowed his eyes firmly down at the grunting Glasses; his own Whirligig Saw pressured the younger warrior's great-sword heavily. Multiple sparks emitted from the pairs' blades and, as they clashed noisily, the narrow-eyed Stewart re-appeared into the fray through an acrobatic forward flip. His own silver sword combined with the sheath on his back to form the similarly transformed Ludwig's Holy Blade; he widened his eyes as he plummeted down toward the currently defenceless Glasses. The suspicious-dressed warrior could only widen his own eyes in shock.

"Tch!"

He finally spoke and, with it, Glasses knocked his left foot forward to catch the gasping Gus off guard; the elderly warrior was forced to take a single step backward, finally allowing the younger fighter room to evade. Glasses back-flipped acrobatically high into the air before utilising his arcane firearm, narrowing his eyes past his spectacles as he fired it at the similar-faced Stewart. As the fourth apprentice slammed his great-sword upon the ground in which his enemy once stood, he shot his own eyes up to glare at his retreating enemy.

Having little option left but to retreat, Stewart grunted as he pulled himself to his feet and quickstepped backward from the approaching grey smoke fired from the Rosmarinus. As he did so however, Stewart soon rejoined the similarly glowering-faced Gus at his side; the pair of allies stared at their recovering enemy ahead of them.

"This one is strong." Gus warned on out with an emphatic narrow of his eyes at the end of his sentence. As Glasses at last landed from his earlier back-flip evasion, he also stared back at the pair of hunters before soon uncoupling his silver sword from its sheath. Finally opting to act, the trio of fighters began to march toward one another, eyes glaring and brows similarly furrowing. The air around them grew even heavier (if that were possible) and as they made their final approach Glasses acted first, as before; the mysterious warrior spun his body forward and diagonally bent to avoid Gus' sudden lunge. He soon found himself dead center between the pair and Stewart widened his eyes in his low scowl as he swung his silver sword diagonally upward. Glasses acted in kind and the pair clashed noisily.

CLANG

Their silver sung resoundingly throughout the Nightmare of Mensis, sparks similarly sailing from their swords. Lightning quick the pair of adept swordsmen spun around in place and clashed their weapons with one another endlessly. About-turning to catch sight of the narrow-eyed pair, Gus soon picked up his own pace to catch up with the struggling two. With a single stabbing attempt he lunged his saw forward; Glasses back-stepped immediately to avoid it before grunting as he swept his left leg toward him to knock him over. The sweep struck and Gus gasped as he dropped to the ground, still gripping his weapon. He grunted as he turned his body around to land on his back, holding his whirring saw upward; the elder widened his eyes however when he found his enemy spinning around in place to descend his newly formed great-sword down on him.

Thinking quickly, Gus revved up his Whirligig Saw and the two clashed noisily for the second time, sparks and screeches emitting between them. Stewart's surprisingly swift interruption caused Glasses to gasp and snap his eyes over to his sharp-right but by then it was far too late; the super-fast youth caught him across the face with a yelling and leaping double kick.

SMACK-SLAM

Glasses yelped out in sudden pain as he was sent rotating wildly through the air; Stewart followed as quickly as he humanly could. Fathoming a plan swiftly, the frowning Gus unattached his saw from his mace and held it upwards; Stewart landed on top of it and, with Gus' assistance, he grunted as he was sent careering after his enemy. Meanwhile Glasses finally managed to react; as he rolled painfully across the bridge's hard cement, he used it to side-flip off of, landing in a kneeling skid backward. His eyes widened past his spectacles when he caught a rapid form chasing on directly after him; clearly the mid-air Stewart.

His body moved so fast it was a mere blur of blue steel. Glasses opened his mouth to voice his horrified concern, speaking only for the second time.

"No!"

DROOM-CLASH

Left with no other option, Glasses shot his Holy Blade diagonally upwards to block the super-fast sailing Stewart. The sheer strength and velocity with which he came at him however sent him racing back the way he very well came, his wildly spinning body shooting even past the next corridor ahead. As Stewart's lightning-encased body landed, his form became visible again and he spun across the ground, knelt down with his great-sword held in both hands. He knelt there for a mere second before the final stray spark of his former lightning died out; the youth snapped his eyes both to his sharp-left after his enemy's direction.

~

The last remaining survivors of the Hunter's Nightmare both marched forward, heavy frowns attached to their faces. Their weapons remained at the ready, as if fearful for another engagement. As they approached the new corridor that their enemy was sent flying through however, their eyes caught the out-of-place sight; dead ahead the balcony before them was visibly broken. Pieces of stone lay littered across the area; Stewart and Gus exchanged a single curious frown before anonymously and silently continuing their march forward.

Craning their necks ahead, they witnessed the blood-covered form of Glasses laying on the ground midst the balcony's destruction, seemingly having been sent through it. The poor fallen man could barely keep hold on his great-sword, let alone do anything else; he just barely managed to raise his free left arm up forward toward the watching Stewart and Gus, almost as if to wring their necks. The last of his strength finally sapped, Glasses let one last gasp out as he shut his eyes and dropped his head to its side. The static lightning with which Stewart struck him with earlier gave one final jolt on his body as it shimmered white; an obvious sign of defeat.

Their impressive and silent teamwork having paid off, Youthful Gus and Stewart Forbes both put on low grins before using their free left hands to slap one another in a morale-filled high-five, echoing across the corridor.


	24. Waking the Dead

Chapter 24: Waking the Dead  
Search for Mergo Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Moonlit Melody" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Micolash; Host of the Nightmare" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 2 (First Half).

\--

In Youthful Gus and Stewart Forbes' footsteps, the pair soon find themselves thrust deep into another plane of existence, much like the Hunter's Dream; a horrifying sight named the 'Nightmare of Mensis'. Having discussed their agreement with lore-master Armand, the Abandoned, the last two survivors of the Hunter's Nightmare acquiesce that their best course of action is to focus their efforts now on the longest arm with the hardest grip on Yharnam.

The School of Mensis.

Resting within a dream of their own name, the Nightmare of Mensis, the School of Mensis were once a top-secret sub-division of the Healing Church under Laurence's control. Now, without their wise leader directing them, the School of Mensis have little to no moral compass and openly kidnap members of the public unfortunate enough to be walking the streets of the Cathedral Ward. Having moved on to the apex of their intentions however, the School now opt to remain in defensive measure, their space having been invaded by the two last remaining heroes of Yharnam.

Stewart Forbes and Youthful Gus tread through this space very carefully, their eyes set on the infant Great One, its name having been given to them earlier by Armand...

'Mergo'.

\--

Scene 1

"I hate this place."

Youthful Gus' quiet but abrupt call made the similarly silent Stewart shake his head out of his mind's wandering, turning briefly as they descended down one of the side-staircases.

Having just dispatched with a hostile warrior, the pair had begun to resume their exploration of Mensis' Nightmare.

"Join the club," Stewart Forbes couldn't help but chuckle back in response before soon regaining his light frown as he faced the front. Ahead lay an oddly vacant clearing in spite of two large stone-like pillars. "It's a nightmare for a reason I guess."

"Any idea who that was?" Gus finally opted to shoot in with, raising one of his white eyebrows as he briefly turned his head to face the youth next to him.

"You mean-?"

He nodded silently in reply.

"Not a one," he admitted on, re-facing the front. "The Butcher thinks that whoever he was, he wasn't part of the School."

"And what makes him think that?"

"The School of Mensis here are oddly vacant," Stewart reasoned with as he narrowed his eyes forward; the very proof with which he spoke, no-one bar themselves marched through the area. "He thinks that maybe whoever that was, was part of the Choir or some other third party looking to gain information."

"A spy you say...," Gus murmured out, folding his left arm under his right elbow. He raised his right hand softly up to his lowered head, eyes narrowing as he rested his finger just shy of his mouth, as if in a thinking gesture. "It would certainly link up with what Sir Armand had told us..."

"Yeah, I think they're both right," Stewart nodded in quiet agreement; the pair soon found themselves ascending yet another staircase, soon coming out to a night-filled air outside. "Whatever the School are planning... it's entering its final stage."

"Then we'd best re-double our efforts... hm?"

Stewart couldn't help but grin back silently at his close friend and companion before regaining his hardened frown; the pair continued to march forward.

"Wait!"

Gus' sudden hiss made Stewart's senses stiffen; he quickly exchanged a look before double-taking as he realised what he was talking about. What seemed to be dead crows of all things lay around an oddly placed bare tree; three of them.

"Do you see it Stewart?"

It took him a second look in but he did.

The crows before them were all natural except for one very important detail.

Their heads were oddly shaped.

"Y-Yeah...," Stewart murmured back out, gulping down saliva as he watched the crows growl out in odd, dog-like voices. "I s-see it..."

On each of their skulls they carried a canine head.

"The 'Nightmare' of Mensis is right...," Gus murmured out before reaching for his iron mace and saw, eyes narrowing. "Are you ready?"

Stewart grabbed his lighter silver sword and furrowed his own brow as he nodded. "Yeah; let's do it."

~

Even as they dispatched with the nightmarish creatures before them including feral dog-like creatures with crows' heads, Stewart and Gus soon found themselves ascending a final seeming set of stairs. Ahead through the next corridor they discovered a long and oddly designed bridge unlike any other they had come across yet in the strange plane of existence. At the side lay a second route, seemingly to be utilised in case the bridge itself was unpassable.

Exchanging a similarly frowning nod, the pair of hunters opted not to take the suspicious looking bridge and crossed the distance through the lightly lower route on the left. As they finally ascended to two more set of stairs they found themselves overlooking a similarly mistrustful looking corridor.

"I don't like this...," Gus voiced his concerns as they stopped right outside of it, his eyes narrowing apprehensively through it the foggy area. "Isn't there another way through this?"

"Doesn't look like it," Stewart replied as he frowned firmly, taking his first steps into the corridor very carefully and lightly. His shoes clicked noisily across the chamber as he did so, his eyes narrowing. Soon however, he gained a light grin adorned on his face as he half-turned his head to face his friend good-naturedly. "Scared?"

"Hmph!" Gus suddenly shot back out, a grin of his own etching on his expression. He took a few steps forward to join his younger comrade, lightly turning his head up in fake disgust. "Do not look down upon me, youngster; though I may be a waking hunter I am still your senior."

"That's the Gus I know." Stewart shot back out in a well-meaning smile this time as his confidant joined him on his left.

"Ahh, Kos, or some say Kosm..."

The pair of men both young and old stiffened their senses before almost immediately brandishing their respective weapons.

"Do you hear our prayers...?"

A man's voice it seemed to be; another factor.

Finally, Stewart thought, another living person.

But was he a friend...?

Or an enemy?

Out from the side of the long corridor ahead, the man finally stepped out from the shadows, facing the side. Stewart's eyes narrowed over at him, recognising him as the corpse from Yahar'gul, Unseen Village.

It couldn't be him, surely?

The man's smile beneath the confined cage he wore spoke of a certain kind of madness as he stopped marching to eerily turn and face the pair far down the corridor.

"No, we shall not abandon the dream," he claimed through his oddly amiable smile, his long black hair turning with his swivelling. "No-one can catch us! No-one can stop us now!" The seemingly nameless man spoke, raising his Byrgenwerth robes skyward, as if reciting a lesson. Stewart's eyes widened when he realised the man's identity from the Butcher's earlier words.

Micolash, former lecturer at Byrgenwerth Royal College.

But that's impossible, he thought.

How?

Does he remember me, maybe?

The robed man merely pulled his body back in his low-eyed smirk before making to leave back through the corridor he came through. A shrill laugh escaped his throat as he turned his cage-encased head to the ceiling, his steps leisurely echoing throughout the chamber.

"Wait!" Stewart called forward, pushing past the gasping Gus at his side. "Micolash-sensei!"

"Stewart, stop!" Gus yelled on after his rushing companion, reaching his free left arm toward him. Clearly missing him he grunted in light annoyance before pulling out his own Hunter's Pistol. "Dammit Stewart...!"

–

2

Stewart kept the sprint on strong, gripping his silver sword and Hunter's Pistol tightly within his two hands; Micolash ahead of him merely continued to dash forward in definite evasion, surprising speed carrying him forward. Eventually the pair soon came to a final opening and what seemed to be a dead-end; Stewart's eyebrows lifted in recognition and he put on a low grin as he realised his pursuit was soon coming to an end. Perhaps also realising this, Micolash finally halted his own run as he came to the end of the battle arena, about-turning very slowly to face the similarly stopped swordsman. He smiled over creepily at the newly frowning youth.

"Micolash-sensei...," Stewart recited for the second time since pursuit began, huffing once to catch his sudden breath. He soon regained it however as he slowly approached the oddly tall man before him. "I need your help... you know something about all this... don't you?" The youth opted to question the older short black-haired man before him, daring to take a few steps forward. He belted his pistol and used his free left hand to reach forward, as if for a hand in his request. "Won't you please-?"

Almost completely without warning, the smiling-faced man before him leant his own left arm forward, as if to outstretch for an attack of some kind. Immediately recognising it as a technique he had once seen in Byrgenwerth, Stewart's eyes widened and he barely avoided it by leaning his form to his far left. Multiple tentacles of arcane power shot out from inside his robed arms toward him; Stewart identified the attack immediately as Augur of Ebrietas. The youth grunted as he leant to the side, time slowing down very briefly for the pair before he finally spun around to re-stand, staring back at the still eerily smiling Micolash before him.

As before, he remained tight-lipped.

"Why won't you talk to me...?" Stewart called over quietly but loud enough for the pair to hear, his eyes narrowing back at the cage-faced man.

"Stewart!"

The named youth could only snap his wide-eyed head 'round to the battle arena's exit and entrance, surprised. As he had half-expected, his companion stood outside the closed entrance, gripping at the bars he spectated through.

I didn't even notice the door shut behind me, he thought.

"Get him!" Youthful Gus urged over at him loudly and obviously, nodding his head in the smiling Micolash's direction. Stewart couldn't help but gasp very quietly to himself as he darted his eyes between him and the now slow-marching Host of the Nightmare.

As before, Micolash grunted as he used his left arm to fire off another couple of arcane tentacles at the youth. This time Stewart was ready however and he expertly spun his body around in a twisting horizontal slash as he passed the grunting former lecturer. He easily dropped to the ground in response pathetically, seemingly already defeated from the simple attack. Stewart couldn't help but put on a saddened frown as he watched his senior and former lecturer fall to the ground.

He wasn't a fighter.

Not like us, he thought.

I shouldn't be doing this.

Almost as if to counteract the youth's hesitant thoughts however, the man's body soon dissipated in bright, white light. Stewart gasped, raising up his garbed arms to block the sudden blast of light in his eyes. When he managed to re-open them he heard the entrance to the arena slam back open, allowing Gus entry. Stewart re-examined the area below and found Micolash gone, as if having been already killed.

And yet again he managed to disappoint the pair of warriors; a shrill laugh echoed throughout the chambers of the arena. Gus marched slowly in to join his younger comrade, turning his eyes skyward as he listened to Micolash laugh endlessly.

"Ooh! Majestic! A hunter is a hunter, even in a dream...," the man's cacophonous voice reverberated. "But, alas, not too fast!"

"Are you all right?" Gus opted to ask, placing a thoughtful arm across his companion's own left, leaning forward as he did. Stewart chuckled, nodding.

"Y-Yeah, sorry I-"

"The nightmare swirls and churns unending!"

Micolash's echoing and interrupting voice made the pair of hunters turn their heads upward in response, soon reminding them of his persistence to exist.

"Come!" Gus called, nodding his head back the way he came before soon turning to jog on out the arena. Stewart nodded in silent agreement before soon lowering his head to join his older comrade; the pair soon found themselves in pursuit of the magically disappeared form of Micolash, ascending staircases and 'rounding corridors all over. As they turned the last corner to find the ever eerily smiling host, he almost immediately jumped to a speedy sprint toward the wall and a mirror ahead of him.

Where the hell was he going?

As if to mock the brow-furrowing pair of hunters, Micolash's dash took him full pelt straight into the mirror. The glass before him soon lit up brightly, forcing the pursuing pair to halt their march, grunting and gasping respectively. They brought both their arms up to block the light and, as it dropped, they soon found the laughing Micolash disappeared from common view.

An arcane mirror of some kind perhaps?

"We should split up if he's planning on derailing us like this." Gus frowned on out as he turned his eye briefly skyward to listen to the former lecturer laughing, presumably at them.

"Agreed," Stewart nodded along in concurrence with his companion. "Ready?"

"Go!"

On that mark the pair split their efforts up; Gus turned back the way they came and Stewart opted to 'round a corner into an unknown corridor, the two hunters jogging on quickly in an attempt to catch the running Micolash. Stewart soon found himself double-taking in a room's direction; his eyes widened when he realised the area looked relatively unknown.

"Ahh, Kos... or some say Kosm... do you hear out prayers?"

Micolash's voice, he thought.

It was close-by.

"As you once did for the vacuous Rom, grant us eyes, grant us... eyes."

Trying to focus on the engagement as opposed to the curious words with which Micolash spoke, Stewart narrowed his eyes as he craned his neck down the battle arena below him.

There he stood, smiling back up at him.

Without another word, Stewart grunted as he forward-flipped through the air, descending down to his enemy with his silver sword held back to strike with.

BANG

He just barely missed the mark; Micolash smiled in the youth's direction as religiously as he had done before soon taking off at full speed toward the opened exit.

"Tch!" Stewart managed out in grown frustration. Gus suddenly ran into frame from the exit 'round a stray corridor. "Gus! Get him!"

The older warrior widened his eyes in the pair's direction before suddenly and roughly swinging his iron mace in the running Micolash's area. The blow struck drawing a little blood but, as if by magic, the Host of the Nightmare's form smoked in and out of Gus' own form, surprising the older gentleman.

"What the-?!"

He snapped his head around before growling in narrowed eyes as he swivelled his body around to give chase. Soon the pair found themselves rushing into a second battle arena, this one with a wall between it.

Oh no, Stewart thought.

SLAM

As the running youth had half-expected, the gate separated him from the two and he skid his boots across the ground in an attempt to recover quickly.

Have to find a way in there, he thought.

"Now!"

~

Youthful Gus' head briefly snapped half-way 'round behind him to regard the fallen gate behind him, locking him in the battle arena he now stood in. The waking hunter of Yharnam turned his narrow-eyed scowl back on the eerily smiling Micolash before soon reaching for the saw on his back.

"I still have no clue on this earth what you're saying to us... Sir Micolash...," Gus began lowly as he advanced very slowly on the former Byrgenwerth Royal lecturer. "But it doesn't matter now...," he continued on before re-narrowing his eyes forward. "If you ally yourself with the School of Mensis..."

SKRRR-CLANG

The wide-eyed Micolash at last dropped his smile as he quick-stepped frantically to avoid the narrow-eyed Gus' lunging strike. His Whirligig Saw briefly ate at the decorated wall around them, his eyes tracing the slippery caged man.

"Then we have nothing more to say to one another." Gus finally opted to finish with, his eyes glaring heatedly back at the now frowning Micolash. As if to respond to him, his smile returned to his face in full measure as he reached forward with his left arm; a familiar attack indeed.

"Plant eyes on our brains...," he began lowly, his tenor-tone voice echoing around the battle arena; Augur of Ebrietas tentacles of arcane might flowed past his robed left arm, aiming directly for the weaving form of Gus. "To cleanse our beastly idiocy..."

Gus opted to close his ears to the man's inane ramblings and leaned his body and head out of the tentacles' way before pressing his own form forward for a counter-attack. He yelled in effort as he pulled his Whirligig Saw back to slash fiercely horizontally but, by the time he even pulled it backward, Micolash pressed forward himself with a surprising assault and barrage of punches and kicks. Gus gasped as he was struck; the attacks connected and he found himself being staggered back.

It wasn't much but it was enough to grant Micolash room.

He tried his Augur of Ebrietas attack once more and, this time, with his landing lag, Gus yelled in terrible pain as he was sent sprawling across the floor.

Barely able to recover, Gus dragged his body up from the ground before soon widening his eyes when he caught the robed form of Micolash shoot his arms skyward, as if preparing for some kind of magical attack.

Oh no, he thought.

An insurmountable amount of arcane missiles all charged above the cage-encased man's form before, finally and soon as well, he grunted in effort; the missiles all shot toward him. Gus attempted to scramble to his feet but by then it was far too late.

DROOM

–

3

"NOOOO!"

Micolash's eyes widened for the second time that day; he snapped his cage-faced head up to his far left. Directly above him plummeted the glaring-eyed Stewart, his Holy Blade transformed and all.

SLAM

This time his attack struck true; Micolash grunted in immense pain as he was sent similarly sprawling from the youth's incredible strength. The recovering Stewart gasped out from his earlier sprinting, catching his breath; he turned his head in the fallen body of his companion's, eyes widened.

He wasn't moving.

"T-The grand lake of mud...," Micolash coughed out blood as he shakily got himself to his feet. "H-Hidden now, from sight...," he managed out in his smiling-toned voice. "T-The cosmos! Of course!"

Stewart's anger at last found an outlet; his eyes glared hatefully at the cause of the trouble he had endured before very quickly marching toward the recovering man.

"L-Let us... sit about-"

SMACK

Micolash gasped out of his own sentence in sudden pain as his lower stomach was struck by the youth's boot, sending him very briefly into the air before landing back on the ground face up. He coughed out more blood, clearly injured very heavily. He couldn't help but laugh up at the furious expression of his enemy, gripping his wound as he did so.

"And speak... f-feverishly..."

CLANG

Stewart dropped his great-sword to his feet next to him before kneeling down to loom over the laughing Micolash threateningly. He shot up his gloved arms before eventually sinking them satisfyingly into his cage-encased head. With incredible strength the cage smashed apart under his force before, eventually, the man's defence was opened up; Micolash could barely manage out a pained grunt as he was assailed endlessly by the hateful-faced youth's blows. Blood and spit from his mouth came sailing skyward and, eventually, Stewart found himself sinking his knuckles into pure pulpy flesh and sticky-bloody black hair.

"Stewart..."

SMACK-SMACK-SMACK

"Stewart!"

Wet chunks of bone flew across the area savagely; the dreaming youth's strength saw no end in sight.

"STEWART!"

Finally he opted to listen; Stewart gasped through his nose, his eyes widening at the sight laying before him.

Micolash's corpse lay below him, his earlier cage pried apart by brute force. His body lay without a head, mere flesh and hair laying around the area. At last Stewart got a look at his own brutal fatality, his eyes widening in a mix of shock and horror.

Mostly at himself.

"Prey slaughtered; he's dealt with now. Go check on Gus."

The Butcher's words echoed on in his mind; Stewart didn't even wait for Micolash's corpse to flash brightly as the others before it. He got to his feet and rushed over to the fallen body of his comrade, skidding across in a kneeling position. Gus turned his eyes over to briefly face his wide-eyed junior before soon forcing a smile across his injured form.

"W-Well done...," the elderly warrior chuckled on out. "A-All by yourself... just as before..."

"Gus..." Stewart managed to murmur out before soon diving into his ebony hunter's garb. The waking hunter of Yharnam could only chuckle erratically, his voice pained from exertion as he watched.

"N-No...," the white-haired warrior negated with a shaky shake of his head; his arm touched the youth's softly and jittery, as if horribly weakened. "I'm not... coming back from this..."

A horrible lump grew in Stewart's throat as he listened, his hopeful frown slowly descending to a silent, sad one.

"Th-That arcane attack... the School of M-Mensis...," he gasped on out. "To think... they have that much..."

"G-Gus I'm-"

"N-No...," Youthful Gus interrupted softly, turning his bloody-faced frown skyward. His eyes shut as he spoke onwards. "Th-This is not your fault..."

"But-"

"Allow an old man his wishes," Gus managed to laugh out in a light cough, his frown mustering a light smile. Though the listening Stewart frowned in sadness he nodded in silent obligation. "We came far didn't we?" The man began in his shut-eyed smile. He re-opened his tired eyes to face the ceiling. "If only Simon could see us now..."

The Harrowed's smiling face briefly entered Stewart's mind as he listened dutifully, frowning on.

"I hope I have helped...," Gus managed out in his own frown this time, gasping out in an attempt to catch his ever-losing breath. "There is only one thing left for you to do now...," he began one final time as he turned his head on the floor to smile briefly at the youth. "There's not much left of the road to go... you'll have to walk the last little bit... yourself..."

Stewart nodded in saddened silence, knelt down in front of the dying hunter.

"Ha-ha...," Gus barely managed to laugh out, re-shutting his eyes as he turned back up to face the ceiling. "The Pthumerian legends really are true...," he chuckled on before briefly re-opening his eyes, a triumphant smile across his bloody and injured face. "You are the last man alive in Yharnam; 'The Last... Hunter...," he managed out in his bright, soft and weakened smile. "'The... Last...," he reiterated, his smile very slowly dropping to a tired frown. "Hunter'..."

Silence descended upon the last remaining survivors of the Hunter's Nightmare; as before with Simon, Stewart shut his eyes and clasped his fingers together to pray for his close companion.


	25. Apex of the Nightmare

Chapter 25: Apex of the Nightmare  
Search for Mergo Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Moonlit Melody" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Lullaby for Mergo" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 2 (First Half).  
"Pledge of Demon" - Yakuza 0 OST. Scene 2 (Second Half).

\--

"'The Last Hunter'."

Youthful Gustav's final words breathed in a strange, triumphant sense as he lay dying in the fated engagement with Micolash, Host of the Nightmare. Even in his dying moments, Gus believes so strongly in his companion that he smiles for his efforts.

Once there were three; Simon, the Harrowed, Youthful Gus and Stewart Forbes, all having met in the Hunter's Nightmare.

Now there was only one.

True to the Pthumerian legends, Stewart carries the torch of his predecessors and continues to struggle on through the School of Mensis' nightmarish dimension. With Simon defeated by Brador in the Hunter's Nightmare and Gus having been put down by Micolash, Stewart Forbes fights on alone.

Just as he did when he first woke up in Iosefka's Clinic...

\--

Scene 1

Just as Stewart had thought, that loud and horribly cacophonous sound earlier was the shrill sound of the peculiar looking bridge that he and Gus had walked by earlier. As if opened by Micolash's death somehow, the bridge had risen upward to form a new path entirely; Stewart narrowed his down it, his frown hardened from his experience earlier.

There's time for grieving later, he thought.

For now, we fight.

As he crossed he activated the Hunter's Dream-affiliated lamp laying not far from his position before turning his eyes out and heading toward the next exit. Ascending two staircases before him, the first one dead ahead and the second to his sharp left, he continued to march on his eyes narrowed. He gripped onto his silver sword hungrily, sensing a killing intent in the air.

What was that?

Multiple fallen ravens lay to his sharp right as he made his final climb, double-taking in their direction. As before, their heads were all missing their vital piece, instead replaced by the feral dogs' heads. He easily dispatched the two crow-like hybrids before widening his eyes and quickstepping to his right to evade the barking feral animal that leapt at him from his unchecked side. As he had half-expected, the dog wore the crow's head.

This place really is a nightmare, he thought.

He shot his silvery sword in a single fluid and horizontal motion in his evasion, easily catching and killing the whimpering canine-mix. The narrow-eyed youth resumed his earlier slow march toward a third set of stairs, this one winding to the left.

"Stewart..."

The named dreaming hunter opted to ignore his newly trusted companion, the Byrgenwerth Butcher, as he pressed on, advancing up the staircase.

"Stewart... this is not healthy."

The fourth apprentice to Gehrman merely continued to ignore the Butcher's very concerned words, finally at the top of the area; he turned very briefly to his right to find an opened lift, its front broken and a similarly open corridor. To his left instead lay yet another staircase down at the end of the clearing, seemingly leading up to his goal. With that in mind the youth turned his body briefly to follow the path down it, his eyes narrowing on his objective.

"This isn't like you Stewart. You are only human; you cannot allow yourself to push down these feelings of yours."

Stewart briefly shut his eyes in his low frown, attempting to block the Butcher's words out.

"Please don't shut me out now Stewart. We need each other if we are going to survive this," the Butcher echoed from within the youth's growingly unstable mind. "Gus and Simon were right; you and I are the last chance Yharnam even has anymore. We are Yharnam's 'Last Hunter'."

As if to mock the pair's quietened thoughts, two shadowed and cloaked figures stalked on down the two staircases toward him, clearly having noticed his presence. Stewart's eyes re-opened and glared on down at the pair; one wielded a long katana-like blade and the other brandished both a sword and a candle, presumably for pyromancy attacks.

These were the Shadows of Yharnam we fought back in Byrgenwerth's Forbidden Woods, Stewart surmised to himself.

Moving to action, the first Shadow quickstepped forward and widely slashed at the air in which he stood in; Stewart merely smoked through the blade's direction before spin-slashing with his own light sword. His counter-attack struck true and the first enemy was sent grunting and sprawling across the pavement floor. Hoping to catch the youth's form, the second Shadow breathed a huge stream of fire at him directly and with alarming speed; Stewart, again, used his Art of Quickening to slide through the fearsome fire unharmed.

CLINK

The dreaming hunter shot his silvery sword into its sheath resting on his back before grunting in effort as he spun his body around to backwardly and brutally slash back in response. The attack connected and the second Shadow was sent rolling horribly through the air, snakes and blood of its own kind sailing with it. Stewart followed up his counter with a deft forward flip, chasing after the fallen pair; with incredible speed and precision, the youth endlessly cut up the grunting Shadows, ripping at their very robes and cloaks. He landed in an expertly done spin, still gripping his great-sword with a hardened scowl on his lips.

Stewart's eyes snapped up suggestively and with alarming speed toward the two staircases on his right.

~

Having ascended a similar set of stairs to the ones he had seen beforehand, Stewart kept his march very slow and quiet so as not to arouse any suspicion from any of the hostile inhabitants of the Nightmare. When he climbed up the suspiciously long and final staircase forward he narrowed his eyes, double-taking in the bright white direction of a presence.

Seemingly a humanoid-shaped person of all things.

What was that, he thought.

He soon recognised it as the blood-stained woman from Moonside Lake in his engagement with Rom, the Vacuous Spider. This time however, he got a good look at her.

Tall in stature, she towered over his form, her eyes cast ahead and skyward.

Was she a Pthumerian?

He traced her gaze and narrowed his own eyes upward; a huge building lay before the pair, towering even to the heavens above.

Whatever she was staring at, it lay at the top of that tower.

Mergo, he thought.

"I've found you."

His slow march resumed toward the elevator that lay before his determined gaze, allowing his thoughts briefly to drift as he did so.

Is that what this has all been about?

One big search for other Great Ones?

What could the Moon Presence be planning?

His ruminations soon came to a close as the elevator he took made the final call to Mergo's Loft. Stepping out he marched on past the many similar-looking corpses sitting in chairs gazing at him silently, his eyes set on the final staircase before him and the corridor in which it led to. As he stepped forward he found himself entering what looked to be a battle arena.

A single cot lay ahead of him in the darkened ruin before him, accompanying the otherworldly cries of the infant that seemed to be resting inside it.

"Mergo...," he thought, his eyes narrowing. "There you are."

As if to dissuade him completely from his advance, a sudden presence dove down on his position. The youth's eyes widened but he remained steadfast, re-furrowing his brow at the interruption before him. Tall in stature and physically larger than the average person, the invader about-turned its feathery-cloaked body to presumably glare back at him. When it did however Stewart found his eyes widening a second time when he realised one horrifying truth.

He couldn't see a thing inside that cloak it wore.

"What the...?" He murmured out, taking a step back; it was the wet nurse's turn to advance on him. The coat it wore moved along with its movements and, pulling its wide-arrayed swords at its side.

It held three in each arm.

What the hell are you?

Stewart was given very little time for further conjecture; the formless Great One leapt at him.

–

2

Acting quickly, the wet nurse spun its much taller body around in a three-sword-spinning-slash attack. Stewart gasped as he smoked his body through safely, eyes watching the Great One carefully.

If it's protecting the baby, he thought.

Then it must have a weak point somewhere.

Even the great Kos' orphan had a weakness.

All Great Ones do.

With that in mind, the dreaming hunter shot his silver sword up to catch the hanging sheath on his back.

CLINK

The two gave off their noisy clunk as they joined together, as if old friends. The wet nurse lightly hovered its towering body in evasion before pulling all six of its steel swords back, presumably to attack with. As Stewart rushed at it expectantly, he put on a low grin, watching it carefully. Much as he had foreseen, the formless Great One joined its steel together in one huge swipe; the narrow-eyed Stewart quickstepped forward in evasion, his Art of Quickening disguising his movement with short-lived fog. Having landed just behind the wet nurse, Stewart's eyes widened as he built up an effort-filled yell; gripping his great-sword with both hands he about-turned and widely horizontally slashed at the Great One behind him.

SCREECH

The wet nurse let out a horrifying and echoing shriek of pain as the silver connected with its vague form; in response it pulled its body sharply to the side. Stewart's eyes widened when he realised its intentions but couldn't move fast enough; Mergo's wet nurse grunted lowly as it spun wildly in place, its steel swords flashing brilliantly from the sheer strength it exuded.

CLANG

Stewart grunted similarly but this time in defensive effort; his Holy Blade was raised up diagonally to block the nine-sword-slash attack. He was sent skidding across the cement below him before he soon made some effort to leave. The wet nurse moved to action as it near caught him; it tossed one of its many swords after him in pursuit. Though it caught his long cap, pinning it to the wall behind him, Stewart himself just barely managed to smoke to his left in swift evasion.

His head unadorned with his hat, his long brown hair whipped wildly in the night-air as he exchanged his hard-eyed glare with the pursuing formless Great One. Mergo's wet nurse cut his advance off by meeting him in the middle of the battle arena; Stewart's eyes widened when he caught it pull the rest of its weapons back, presumably to attack with. The dreaming warrior pulled his great-sword back to attack in defence with.

Here it comes, he thought.

CLANG-CLANG-CLASH-SMASH

Stewart's eyes shot around as wildly as his whipping hair; with an initial long swing of his great-sword he transformed it back to his trusty silver sword in favour of quicker combat.

And fast indeed it was.

The pair were engaged in a lightning-fast series of spinning slashes and twisting aerials; sparks flew in and out of their attacks, soon giving rise to a light flame from the sheer speed they both moved at. Though Stewart had to match the wet nurse's incredible number of limbs with adaptation and reach, the formless Great One had no such limitations; the steel swords it carried floated around in effortless control, clashing with Stewart's own sword endlessly.

Sadly, for the youth, he found himself very gradually retreating backward in his numerous spins and swipes.

Eventually the pair came advancing toward the battle arena's wall and Stewart's predicament was dire indeed; his eyes widened as they caught the sight of the wall behind him, spinning around endlessly to defend himself. Soon the dreamer attempted to merely break through the seemingly endless number of attacks by desperately vaporising through the Great One's slashes with his Art of Quickening.

Unfortunately however he was caught by one of the many attacks the wet nurse employed.

Stewart yelled in sudden pain as he was struck, his body careering through into the wall behind him. The wet nurse wasted no time in its assault; it leapt forward and pulled only one of its swords back to finish the job with.

No, he thought.

"I can't move!"

In spite of his frightened thoughts, Stewart could only widen his eyes in horror as he watched the wet nurse thrust its sword forward to finish him with.

CLASP-HUMM

With a sudden burst in blood-power, Stewart's body moved but not of his own volition; his gloved arms caught the steel sword sent sailing forward by the wet nurse through his mere palms and the pair were soon engaged in a tug-of-war together. The steel from the Great One's blade hummed noisily as they stood locked in combat but, finally pushing the gasping wet nurse back, the possessed boy's head shot back up his eye aflame in that familiar crimson red.

"Come on!"

~

The Byrgenwerth Butcher's deep Yharnam accent echoed throughout Mergo's chamber as he managed to push the gasping Great One back. The stone wall behind him crumbled loudly as he yanked his body out of it, the odd stone falling to the ground as he cricked and cracked his neck.

"Dammit Stewart...," the second side of the youth muttered out in a low scowl before suddenly widening his eyes; with swift movement he leapt backward in evasion as the wet nurse savagely leapt at him, slashing with its many swords. "Hah!" The Butcher yelled out as he swiftly roundhouse kicked at the wet nurse's cloaked and hidden head.

The attack seemed to connect and Mergo's wet nurse found itself similarly spinning in recovery, skidding backward as it did. The Butcher grunted as his body twisted around; he reached into his clothes for his familiar Hunter's Axe, glaring back at the now slow-moving Great One.

"If it wasn't for Gus' death...," the former serial killer muttered out as he began to advanced very slowly forward, pulling and extending his Hunter's Axe as he did so. "You would never leave yourself open to this swine otherwise..." He finished, his hot-crimson eyes glowering hatefully at the attendant.

As if understanding him and his very words, Mergo's wet nurse raised up two of its many arms to the sky. Its head went with it and, as it did, a visible purple-shaded effect flashed above. The Butcher's steps halted almost immediately as he gave witness to it, only one of his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"What is this sorcery?"

Almost as if to answer his very query the second it came from his mouth, the formless ascendant stepped forward. As it did, the very battle arena and all roads in sight were lost to darkness; the Byrgenwerth Butcher's eyes widened in initial silent shock however he regained his low grin as he soon recognised the technique.

"Impressive...," he muttered out lowly before very suddenly leaning his head and his body to his sharp-left; the wet nurse re-appeared from the darkness, charging at him with numerous wild swipes. "But not enough!" The Butcher exclaimed out with a victorious laugh as he pulled his elongated Hunter's Axe back to spin-slash savagely in counter-attack; Mergo's wet nurse gave out a second shriek of agony as it was sent stumbling forward in pain.

Lightning-fast however it reacted; its body disappeared into the darkness of its own creation. The Butcher's smirk was soon lost to him; his crimson eyes found themselves darting around in search for it but he was soon answered. Mergo's wet nurse re-appeared to his far-left, charging a second time at him; he watched it carefully and suspiciously.

Not the same attack again?

His thoughts were interrupted for the umpteenth time; a second copy of the formless assailant leapt at him from his previously undefended right side.

"Wha-?!" The Butcher exclaimed, eyes widening as he double-took in the Great One's direction.

With even quicker reactions, the former murderer smoked through his opponent's second strike safely before swiftly about-turning in a wide and diagonal counter-attack, landing on his left knee, his left hand clenched together and left at his side.

"A form of the after-image technique!" The Butcher yelled out in a long and wide grin, watching the wet nurse spin around once more in recovery. "And a solid one at that!"

In spite of his complimenting words, Mergo's wet nurse opted instead to remain silent as it turned around to glare on back at him. The dark curtain it had pulled over earlier began to dissipate and, as it did, the Byrgenwerth Butcher lost his grin pulling himself back up to his feet. He held onto his extended Hunter's Axe with a single hard-eyed glare, one arm gripping the long hilt of the savage blade held at his side.

"You Great Ones...," the former serial killer began lowly as he narrowed his eyes forward. "You, it would appear, are no exception to us humans."

If the formless wet nurse heard him it gave no inclination; it merely hovered slowly toward him threateningly.

"You fight with one another like we do," the young man wisely stated, his eyes narrowing in accusation toward the Great One before him. "Endlessly conflicting with each other with no thought to the consequences of those below you..."

The wet nurse very slowly and carefully spun its many swords around its invisible fingers and hands, very quietly approaching the glaring Byrgenwerth native.

"No more..." The Butcher murmured out this time, his eyes briefly shut as if speaking to himself. Without another breath, the dreamer pulled back his Hunter's Axe with both arms and his body with it. Mergo's wet nurse shrieked out loudly as it made two passes at him with its real form and a visible clone; the Butcher's own form suddenly disappeared into the dark curtain the Great One had risen up a second time, surprising his formless opponent.

SLASH-SQUELCH

"No more!" The Butcher's deep voice echoed emphatically; his form re-appeared at the real wet nurse's undefended rear, his Hunter's Axe savagely torn through the Great One's back. "This... this is not the end of us." He breathed out, realigning his stance once more; he spun his axe around before clanging it to the ground next to him, watching the wet nurse's body very slowly drop forward.

Feathers from its cloak and body flew upward along with the dying cries of what seemed to be Mergo, now missing from its cot.

"This is the beginning," the Butcher claimed as he narrowed his eyes down at the fallen form of his enemy before snapping his eyes upward to the sky, watching the dimension's own moon with expectancy. "I'll be seeing you again," he growled out as he glared both crimson eyes at the second moon before finally finishing his sentence. "Nightmare... Slain."


	26. Mentor VS. Student

Chapter 26: Mentor VS. Student; Prisoner VS. Saviour  
Breaking the Cycle Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Moonlit Melody" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Gehrman, the First Hunter" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 2 (Second Half).  
"Moon Presence (Phase 1)" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 3 (Second Half).

\--

And then there was one.

In Stewart Forbes' long and arduous journey he has met many people, both enemies and comrades alike. In them he had found two in particular, Simon, the Harrowed; a former member of the Healing Church and Youthful Gus, a simple waking hunter of Yharnam. With their assistance, the fourth apprentice to Gehrman managed to put to rest the fallen spirits of the Hunter's Nightmare. With their deaths however he and his other side, the Byrgenwerth Butcher, are left to fend for themselves.

They have come far indeed; from being taught in the very basic principles of fighting as a hunter to freeing restless spectres, Stewart and the Butcher now set their sights on the final hurdle they must pass.

A fight to the death with their former mentor, Gehrman.

Said to be the greatest hunter of his era and perhaps even of all time, Gehrman's knowledge and combat prowess is said to be second to none. Even the great Byrgenwerth Butcher himself trembles at the thought of a seasoned veteran such as himself, leaving no hunter left to confront him.

And yet they must.

Though the Byrgenwerth Butcher's motivations have thus changed since his reawakening in the Lecture Hall, his initial laid plans have not; in defeating Gehrman Stewart and the Butcher realise the master architect of all of Yharnam's suffering is hiding behind him. Only in felling the world's greatest can the two finally realise the Pthumerian prophecy of legend.

'The Last Hunter'.

\--

Scene 1

"Oh, Laurence...," Gehrman, the first hunter managed out lowly from his little wheelchair. He lay currently spread out around a particular garden in the Hunter's Dream, watching the flowers with a sense of sadness running through his tear-stained eyes. "Master Willem... somebody, help me..." He gasped out, his lower lip trembling.

Making certain that he was alone, he wheeled himself out to this garden he had always found himself so fond of.

Keeping up appearances was very important to him.

"Unshackle me, please, anybody...," the veteran warrior managed out, gripping his cane softly within his two hands. "I've had enough of this dream... the night; it blocks all sight," he gasped out, his voice reaching a higher octave than before. "Somebody... please...!" Gehrman finally managed out through a saddened and griefed tone of voice, shaking terribly in his chair. His body shook with his wobbly voice, a contrasting sight to the once invincible first hunter of Yharnam.

Just as always on a restless night when thoughts of the Fishing Hamlet disaster plague his dreams, he erupted very softly into a quiet but hysterical fit of tears. His body shook with each tear-stained and shut-eyed frown he gave, gripping his cane tightly.

Making the elderly warrior gasp however, a sudden burst of flame made Gehrman gasp and snap his head around in his wheelchair, surprised.

The large workshop with which he was so familiar with was suddenly set aflame.

A clear sign with which he was also familiar with.

"Ah...," the old man managed out, his saddened frown very slowly morphing into a light smile. "Laurence... the end is not far away now...," he claimed, as if speaking to his old and deceased companion. "Every last dream will burn and Flora will return from the moon, just as you once predicted my friend." Gehrman smiled on out as he stared up at the workshop.

He about-turned his wheelchair and began to wheel it forward back out of the garden.

"As with the others... I will give him a choice...," he began as he very briefly shut his eyes, wheeling slowly forward. "But I imagine, as always, you are right," the wizened old man smiled as he finally began to enter the main area of the dream, his destination further ahead. "The time will come for us both to honour our vows as hunters of the old era," he claimed before re-opening his eyes as he came down the small hill next to the multiple gravestones littering the area. "He and I will fight to the death and she will consume the victor...," Gehrman spoke, almost as if in warning before he cast his gaze skyward to the bloody-red moon looming over them all. "Whether he is up to the challenge... is another story."

~

Stewart's senses returned to normal when he made his final approach and arrival to the Hunter's Dream. His blue eyes immediately caught the sight of the bright flames enveloping the workshop he had grown so familiar with over the time he spent.

It felt like years.

He pushed down the painful rising feeling to his throat and fought back the incredibly erratic amount of emotions bursting at his seams. When he stepped back into the workshop itself, his eyes very briefly scanned the area for what would be the last time; they double-took however when he caught the sight of the plain doll standing over a tea-set on a table. She similarly boomeranged her darkened eyes over to his position, widening them in recognition before slowly smiling over at him warmly.

"Good hunter...," she greeted as she joined her joined fingers together at her front before very quietly stepping over to join him. "It has been an age..."

Stewart opted to remain silent in response, unable to find the words to give her. He stood staring back at her, his head very lightly leant to his left. The plain doll could only similarly lean her head to the side in a show of uncertainty, watching his expression carefully. When she caught the deep reddening around his eyes, a sign of mourning, her smile slowly re-appeared.

"I see," the once-curious faced doll smiled up at him before she moved toward him, her hands outstretching forward. She wrapped them around his form and Stewart's reddened eyes shut as he momentarily shuddered from her slow yet sudden embrace. The doll laid her silvery-haired head across his ebony-garbed chest, smiling as she always seemed to. "When all may turn against you, good hunter, I will always be here for you."

As if her words at last broke the final obstruction to his emotions, Stewart finally gave in; his gloved hands shakily rose up to wrap themselves around her own form and he dropped to the ground, similarly trembling.

"G-Gus...," the dreaming youth finally gasped on out, his tear-stricken eyes shut roughly. "Simon... Eileen..."

"Shh...," the doll comforted him as she joined him at knee-level, her hands gently rubbing his coarse back. "It's okay..."

Countless other faces from his long and arduous journey entered his memories as he lay there very quietly crying.

The Byrgenwerth Butcher opted, for once, to remain silent from his side in Stewart's consciousness.

–

2

"Ah... good hunter..."

Stewart turned his sky-blue eyes up to the smiling Gehrman ever sitting in his reliable old wheelchair, resting on a higher hill of flowers. The pair now resided in a garden; a garden once locked off by an otherworldly power.

"You've done well; the night is near its end," the elderly warrior spoke in his light and tired smile, gripping his ever trusty cane as he did so. "Now... I will show you mercy..."

His words triggered a twitching of the narrow-eyed Stewart's face, almost as if expecting these words and the words to come.

"You will die, forget the dream and awake under the morning sun," he offered in his quiet and deep voice. "You will be freed..."

The old man's words were elongated and spoken with some subtle sense of envy but, all the same, Gehrman still smiled.

"From this terrible hunter's dream..." Gehrman finally finished, this time with a shake of his head and an emphatic frown. At last offering the youth a choice and an answer to give, Gehrman lay back in his chair, frowning. Stewart very slowly leaned his head and his body to the side as his eyes narrowed in a light hostile glare.

"No."

Gehrman's frown deepened, if that were even possible.

"No...?"

"I said no," Stewart shot back, his eyes re-narrowing a second time back at his mentor. "I refuse."

Silence descended down upon the pair of warriors; the last hunters in Yharnam before, finally, Gehrman moved in response.

"Dear oh dear, what was it?" The wizened old man replied, his words echoing throughout the dream. "The hunt, the blood, or the horrible dream?"

The wheelchair he rested on gave a loud creak, almost making the listening Stewart jump; Gehrman very slowly rose from the chair, a sight of shock indeed.

"Oh, it doesn't matter..."

With his words hovering into the night air, the elderly warrior soon found himself staring down at the hard-eyed youth below him.

"It always comes down to the hunters' helper to clean up after these sorts of messes..." He trailed off further as he reached down with his left gloved hand, presumably for something.

SHING

The steel on his back gave off a cacophonous hum as he pulled a second blade out from his side. The two blades joined to form a long and intimidating scythe hanging on his back.

"Tonight...," he began, his head held low. Stewart's own eyes widened lightly as he watched, his blood rising for the inevitable confrontation between them. "Gehrman joins the hunt..."

~

In spite of his presumed disability, Gehrman himself amazingly proved otherwise with a slow but sure march toward the hard-frowning youth. Stewart opted not to open his mouth to speak another word to his sensei and very quickly reflected on the man's earlier lessons.

"A hunter must indeed be fleet of foot."

CLANG

Stewart's hardened frown similarly clashed with Gehrman's; his long great-sword clanged noisily against the older man's rough-looking Burial Blade, sending them both skidding across the flowery ground beneath them. They both immediately ran off to their similar right sides together from their far-off positions, eyes glaring at one another. Their speed was monstrous, easily eating up the poor flowers and wildlife beneath their boots.

The two strongest men in Yharnam.

"You must get to the point where you no longer need to rely on blood vials."

Gehrman's words, spoke to him ages earlier, rung clearly in his head and reflected in his swift movement; he shot his body to the side, leaning very lightly, just barely avoiding the grunting Gehrman's vertical forward spinning slash attack. With enough time to counter, Stewart swept his legs before twisting his body around and bringing Ludwig's Holy Blade down on him.

CRASH

With similar speedy movement however his elderly mentor rolled his body out of the way in time, side-flipping across the flowery field with a hardened glare. Stewart traced his landing with a swift scowl before speeding forward to meet him; Gehrman saw it and, with widened eyes, readied his Burial Blade.

CLANG

The pair glowered heatedly at one another through the sparks and fire their fearsome weapons created.

"A well placed gunshot will open me up for a visceral attack."

As if acting to the thoughts ringing in Stewart's mind, Gehrman pushed the youth forward in a light stumble before pulling his scythe back for an obvious follow-up strike.

CLINK

Stewart parted his silver sword to gain a second hand and immediately shot up his Hunter's Pistol forward.

BANG

The Quicksilver Bullet connected and Gehrman gasped as he dropped to his knees; not a moment too soon. Stewart reached forward with his now free right hand and squelched his arm through the elderly warrior's insides, sending him sprawling and rolling, bloody to the ground.

"This is how you fight, isn't it Gehrman-sensei?"

Stewart's silent thoughts reverberated across the walls of his consciousness, only he and the Byrgenwerth Butcher able to hear them.

"A hunter need not exchange words with a beast; it is just that. A beast," the youth further pondered to himself as he quickstepped to his rear, avoiding Gehrman's lunging horizontal swipe. His words came from memory, as if quoting the man himself. "I wonder... are you angry at me?"

He leapt up and roundhouse kicked the elderly warrior across the face, sending him spinning and careering through the air; the infamous first hunter righted himself as he landed, side-flipping a second time. He skid across the flowers, uttering not a single word as he did.

"Or maybe you're just... disappointed in me."

Stewart's silent ruminations carried with him as he moved with inhuman speed to pursue the retreating form of his opponent. He descended down on the wide-eyed Gehrman from above, his Holy Blade transformed to a great-sword as before.

CLANG-SKRR

Sparks and fire once again emanated between the pair; Gehrman opted this time to leave his transformed Burial Blade on his back, both arms gripping it. His left eye glared back at the simple frowning youth suspended in mid-air, his head half-turned to meet him.

"Is that why you refuse to say another word to me?"

It was Gehrman's turn to surprise the youth; with a sizeable increase in force he sent the frowning Stewart rolling back through the air. His raggedy cape billowed as a bluish aura began to encircle his body. Stewart skidded across the beautiful garden ground before soon landing at a gravestone behind him; as if pursuing his very retreat, the narrow-eyed Gehrman moved so fast he almost flew through the very air before him. Stewart's eyes snapped around to follow him before pushing off of the grave behind him, careering himself forward. As he half-expected, Gehrman's suspended mid-air swipe with his scythe resulted in an unnatural razor-wind concocted. The first hunter aimed it well; Stewart gasped as he landed in a skid, attempting to halt his advance into the attack.

Pressing on his momentum, Gehrman re-appeared directly behind the youth, smoking through the air with his Art of Quickening. Stewart's eyes shot behind him, his head refusing to move; Gehrman shot up his elongated Burial Blade forward to catch his neck with. The dreaming fourth apprentice immediately bent his body backward to avoid the reach, eyes narrowing behind him at the wide-eyed old man. With incredible dexterity and acrobatic technique, Stewart used his body to cartwheel backward before eventually colliding his booted feet into the grunting Gehrman's face.

SLAM

The pair flew through the flowery air before they, eventually, both recovered; Stewart skid along the ground safely whereas the frowning Gehrman flipped his body through the air with amazing agility. Acting further on his speed, the elderly warrior disappeared in a show of fog; another display of his use of original technique. The fourth apprentice to Gehrman shut his eyes as his retreat finally halted before suddenly erupting into mist himself; a silent declaration to his former teacher and father-figure. Gehrman re-appeared directly in his face grunting as he swung his Burial Blade across where he once stood, passing through mere smoke. Stewart just as soon re-appeared at the old man's undefended side, skidding across the ground with a wide spinning slash attack; Gehrman, as before, smoked through the assault with a second quickstep to his mysterious mist, this time descending back down through the sky to reply with.

CRASH

As he had expected, Stewart's own body fumed away to safety; the pair continued to exchange their attacks like this in what felt to be minutes, even hours before, finally, Stewart had, had enough. When he made his final swing, he drifted across the ground in a 180 angle, frowning hard forward as he did, almost as if waiting for his enemy. Gehrman did not disappoint; the well-experienced warrior re-appeared high into the sky, pulling his Burial Blade backward for an obvious plunging attack. Eventually, he came plummeting down for his younger student.

CLANG-CLASH

The ground shook horribly, as if rent by a natural disaster from the sheer power the two hunters silently exuded; Stewart held his great-sword diagonally defensively, holding the narrow-eyed Gehrman's fearsome assault back. Sparks, as before, flew in and out of their eyeing glares.

"I know why you do this."

With that thought driving him on, Stewart's blood-power rose to a screeching high and he pushed forward; Gehrman's own eyes widened from the sudden strength increase, unable to deal with it. The fourth pupil spun his large sword around in a twisting slash, catching the elderly warrior's face with a light but visible scar across his cheek. Gehrman was sent back-flipping through the air in recovery; he smoked his body for the umpteenth time in an attempt to disguise his approach, eyes narrowing. Without another word exiting from his mouth Stewart followed him urgently, the flowers beneath his boots crying from the pairs' battle.

"But Laurence isn't coming, Gehrman-sensei."

Stewart just as quickly re-appeared at Gehrman's undefended left side; the older hunter's eyes widened when he just barely caught sight of him but it was far too late, even as quickly as he had noticed.

BAM

Stewart savagely roundhouse kicked his mentor across the face, sending him sprawling and rolling across the wildlife ground.

"And neither is Maria; they're both finally resting."

The dreamer's calm thoughts gave a great contrast to his hurried actions in pursuing the rolling Gehrman; the old man just barely managed to flip his body one more time in recovery in time to catch his student's super-fast movement through the air, barely catching the sight of smoke chasing after him.

SLAM

The liquid-fast Stewart re-appeared at his undefended side, spinning his back-knuckle across his face, sending him sprawling to the ground once more. This time however, for the last time; the fourth dreamer side-flipped through the air after him before finally utilising his opponent's lack of fatigue with a narrow-eyed stabbing dive of his great-sword.

Time slowed down for the pair as they lay there together, the garden's wind blowing their hair and garb surprisingly loudly. Gehrman coughed out blood, his eyes widened in shock at being both overpowered and out-sped. The fight finally over, Stewart at last opted to allow his hardened scowl to soften up into a tired and saddened tear-stained frown.

"Now... maybe you can too."

–

3

"The night... and the dream... were long...," Gehrman managed out amidst his coughs, his frown very slowly curling into a light smile, his eyes shut as he did so. "No-one... not even the one before you... could do this..." The elderly warrior wisely stated in a coughing chuckle.

Stewart remained standing above his mentor before very quickly yanking his great-sword from the man's body, his flesh squelching loudly as he did. He tossed the bloody blade clanging to flowery ground before kneeling down next to the old man, taking him in his arms, frowning down at him silently.

"J-Just as Laurence predicted...," Gehrman laughed out, his voice shaky and coughing from his wounds. "B-But... how can you... hope to stand against..."

As if sensing the very words coming from his mouth, Stewart used his free hand to reach into his garb before quickly procuring three small items in his palm. Gehrman turned his blood-stained eyes over to them before soon widening.

"Y-You did it...," he gasped out before very slowly rising his shocked frown to the sad smiling face of his last student. "Just as... as he told us... 'three third cords'..." The old man laughed on out, his crimson life-juices decorating the flowers beneath them. With a single clasping of his left fingers he crushed all three umbilical cords resting within his hand before responding.

"Rest now... Gehrman-sensei," Stewart finally opted to speak to his advisor and teacher, smiling. "You've been here long enough."

"N-No-one else at Byrgenwerth believed him...," Gehrman laughed on out. "I thought you were just another dreamer b-but... I was wrong...," the old man trailed off before re-opening his eyes and smiling on up at the similar-faced youth. "Thank you," he gasped out in his widened smile, shaky but sure in his words. "I'm proud... to have called you...," the wizened old warrior began before his body finally started to shine; the final sign of defeat. "My apprentice..."

Gehrman's final words echoed throughout the beautiful dream's garden and, as his body flashed brilliantly in white, Stewart was left with nothing in his arms at all, as if the old man hadn't existed at all. His smile very slowly dropped in favour of a saddened frown as he stepped his body on upward, his long brown hair whipping in the wind.

"Goodbye... Gehrman-sensei."

~

As if to mock his final farewell however a bright and similarly crimson light made the youth's eyes scrunch up in surprise. Turning himself around to the source of the unnatural light his eyes widened in recognition.

I know what that looks like, he thought.

From the blood-red moon descended a life-form, much larger and seemingly more powerful than even he. Multiple tentacles ran around its lower body and around its head, as if hair for its very body.

It was just like the drawings Armand showed me in the Lecture Hall, he pondered very quietly to himself.

"You...," he murmured out as he dared to take a step forward, his eyes widened. "That thing in the moon... the Moon's Presence!"

If the unknown cosmos-like creation heard his words, it acted as if it didn't; it continued to hover down to the ground toward him, as if a godly creature of some unknown kind.

"Now I'm the only one left..." Stewart murmured out, narrowing his eyes forward at the hovering otherworldly creature. When he finally made eye contact with the beast-like form however, his blue eyes widened before almost immediately turning a hot crimson-red. His gaze became transfixed with the Moon Presence's and he felt himself very slowly striding forward, petals of the flowers beneath him flying up to meet his approach. The youth's pondering and movement became tied to the being and he found himself unable to make any sentient thought of his own.

He marched gradually toward the godly creature as he was seemingly told to.

As it finally reached the garden floor, Stewart made his own last approach, his gaze and his very will still transfixed to the Moon Presence's. The large creature reached forward with its long and reptile-like hands to grasp at him in a contrastingly loving manner. Stewart gave the supernatural being no resistance and could only frown back at it, entranced and captivated by its gaze.

"Stewart! Wake up!" The Byrgenwerth Butcher called from within.

It was no use.

Whatever sorcery the Moon Presence employed, it was strong indeed; Stewart's frowning limpid gaze was held aloft and strong. As it drew the entranced youth closer however, its tendrils and tentacles closing over him lovingly and slowly, an intensely bright light suddenly flashed between the pair.

SCREECH

The master architect of the Hunter's Dream gave out a long and painful sounding shriek; the light was seemingly strong enough to separate the pair. The Presence was sent a few yards back from the exchange, raising its tendril-filled head slowly to face its new challenge. Stewart let out a wide-eyed gasp, his eyes returning to their normal sky-blue colour as he fell to his knees. He could only attempt to catch his breath, shocked at the proceedings.

If I hadn't consumed those umbilical cords when I did, he thought.

"It would have taken me."

As if reading his very horrifying thoughts, the Moon Presence turned its strange head and gaze down toward the youth. This time however, its gaze seemed to be contrastingly different; for Stewart's dare in opposition, the godly creature gave out a second discordant screech.

"I...," Stewart began lightly from his mouth as he slowly re-focused his gaze on his long-time enemy, similarly raising himself to his feet for incoming combat. "I am the last one; Yharnam's last hunter," he declared honestly, his words echoing throughout the windy garden. "For Gehrman!" The youth exclaimed passionately this time, his eyes widening as he clenched his free left fist full of fingers. "Laurence! And everyone else you've enslaved!"

The Moon Presence stared back at him wordlessly, almost as if allowing him to finish.

"I am going to...," Stewart re-started his sentence with a narrow of his eyes, raising his clenched fist to his close-front. "Finish you!" He called out loudly, leaning his head to the side in his grit-toothed scowl as he did.

Finally ready it would seem, the Moon Presence gave a third and final outcry, far deafening anything else said in the Hunter's Dream.


	27. Endgame: The Last Hunter

Chapter 27; Endgame: The Last Hunter  
Breaking the Cycle Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "Pray for Victory" - Fire Emblem 10: Radiant Dawn OST. Chapter Briefing.  
"Moon Presence (Phase 2)" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 1 (First Half).  
"Rashid VS. F.A.N.G. (Cinematic Story Mod)" - Street Fighter V: Arcade Edition OST. Scene 2 (Second Half).

\--

"Just as Laurence predicted..."

Some of the great Gehrman's final words in his final fight to the death with his last student, Stewart Forbes. Having been surpassed completely and utterly, Gehrman's shackles to the Hunter's Dream are finally liberated and the selfless old man can finally rest in peace. Behind him however hides the greatest challenge to Stewart and the Byrgenwerth Butcher yet; a being of incredible and otherworldly power, known to Laurence, Gehrman and now Stewart as the 'Moon Presence'.

Said to have turned to this nameless Great One in search of a final solution to Yharnam's uncontrollable beast population, Laurence's one mistake has led to the inevitable suffering and grief for decades. Though he attempted to solve this problem himself, his old friend Gehrman having been taken as collateral, he failed and for the last time; the once great but forsaken tactician of Yharnam lost himself to the Old Blood and the Hunter's Nightmare.

Though it took years after his initial venture, Stewart's efforts since killing in Byrgenwerth and his change of heart have helped Laurence's own. Indeed, the fourth recorded dreamer of the Hunter's Dream has helped to shape the fortune of the war-torn land of Yharnam not once but many times over. His magnetism has won over such names as Djura, retired hunter, Eileen, hunter of hunters, Simon, the Harrowed and even his other side; the Byrgenwerth Butcher. Just as Eileen once told him on the steps to the Grand Cathedral in the Cathedral Ward, he is Yharnam's last chance at redemption.

Last chance at life.

The last hunter of Yharnam stares down the greatest manipulator and architect the land has ever known. All eyes are now drawn to this final and fated confrontation between the last two strongest beings in Yharnam for the city and its peoples' lives depend on it.

The end of the cycle is finally in sight.

\--

Scene 1

ROAR

The Moon Presence's guttural voice echoed loudly throughout the once beautiful garden as it leapt forward to strike the watching Stewart down with its two long arms. Utilising his deceased mentor's Art of Quickening, the dreaming youth smoked through the obvious and desperate lunge, his blue eyes narrowing determinedly at the once godly creature before him.

I can't die here this time, he thought, not even once.

If I do, it will take me.

"Just as it took Gehrman-sensei."

He swung his silvery sword horizontally as he passed the Presence's relatively huge body, eliciting an angry growl from it in response. The nameless Great One shot its legs across the flowery ground in evasion, as if a spider of all things before soon glowering down at him; Stewart stared directly back at it, its magical gaze on him having no more effect.

Pulling its long right arm back it attempted to slam his very body upon the ground; with his body seemingly quicker than the Presence's own, he easily avoided the attack by leaping upward, soon landing on the Great One's arm. It pulled its arm back and seemed to watch him curiously, almost as if quizzical of all things.

CLINK

Stewart's silvery sword gave a noisy echo as he combined it with the sheath on his back to form his trusty great-sword. He swung it savagely across the Moon Presence's facial area, causing a screech of pain and a stumble backward from it in response; though he attempted to move off of the Great One's body, his own eyes widened when he found himself caught in its gaze, unable to move.

"Wha-?!"

An intensely bright light of pure hot crimson red struck his vision and, suddenly, Stewart's body was filled with physical and mental pain of all kinds. He could move but not if he wanted to; the youth could only fall shakily from the Presence's body, eyes widened.

CRASH

"Gaze of the Moon! It's paralysed you!"

The Byrgenwerth Butcher's words echoed throughout the tired Stewart's mind.

"Get up Stewart!"

SLAM

The Moon Presence leaned forward and struck the grunting Stewart across his body, its intense physical strength sending him rolling through the air, his own blood sailing after him. With further increase to its speed, the moon-scented Great One leapt on after him, its gaze fixed determinedly on his involuntary retreat.

SMASH

The Presence re-appeared at the end of the garden before even Stewart could and slammed its long right clawed arm into the youth's sailing body, catching him into the gravestone wall behind him. He grunted a second time, his eyes scrunching shut from the otherworldly pain the creature inflicted on him, his very body embedding into the wall behind him.

SCREECH

As if furious with him for his efforts, the Moon Presence's livid screech echoed frighteningly across the Hunter's Dream's dimension, its long clawed arms clenched into fists at its side as it did. It reached forward, very slowly, to grasp the paralysed youth glaring into his shut-eyed frown. Contrastingly softly this time it raised his form up to its gaze before, very gradually, squeezing down on him.

"Ngh!"

The last hunter could only grunt vocally in physical and mental pain as he lay in its intense grip, his face and body full of his own bloody injuries.

Was this to be the end, he thought.

Am I to die here?

"Everything...," he began in his mind, despair filling his senses. "Has been for nothing."

~

"Stewart...," the Byrgenwerth Butcher murmured on out as he stepped forward from within the named youth's consciousness.

He watched his second side struggle in despair and pain, seemingly unable to break the Moon Presence's insurmountable strength and power.

"Even Sensei Gehrman and the ancient Pthumerians had no idea what it was they so righteously worshipped..." He trailed off lightly as his stare soon found itself fixed on the Great One's frightening form.

It looked a horrifying sight indeed.

"All the conflict and strife throughout history, all the fear and hatred... all served but one purpose," the Butcher wisely began once more as he glared heatedly at the Presence's form. "To keep my benefactor's Hunter's Dream turning."

As if listening to his very words, the Great One pressed down harder on the weakly grunting Stewart's form.

"All souls were prisoners, trapped in the pointless round of existence, leading despair-filled and blunted lives until death returned them, always in ignorance, to the dream."

"If you follow in their footsteps... then you will change nothing."

Armand's words regarding the last Dreamers of the hunt; as true then as they are now.

"But what hope had there been...?" The Butcher started for the umpteenth time, eyes lightly narrowing forward as he thought of Djura and Eileen and of their ill-fated service to the Hunter's Dream. "One cannot fight the unseen... even with all the Insight and strength in this plane, not even the world's greatest could stand up to a Great One that has fed for decades, perhaps even generations."

His words trailed off in a light echo as he stared directly at the frightening form of the Moon Presence's face. It did not respond to him but its face almost seemed to.

"Despair." It said.

"It was then I knew what I had to do," the Byrgenwerth Butcher frowned on out, his eyes very slowly narrowing determinedly. "I, alone... could end this."

–

2

FLASH

The Moon Presence gave out yet another pained and echoing shriek as a bright flash of light illuminated from the youth a second time, successfully separating the pair as seemingly intended.

With no strength left to his physical body, Stewart could only grunt in a pained cough of blood as he crashed weakly to the flowery ground beneath him, his wavy eyes turning skyward. The sky looked wobbly and dreamlike, as if he were half-asleep; a second form soon began to materialise above him, frowning firmly down at him, a young man dressed like him.

He reached down to offer the pained youth a hand up.

"B-Butcher...?" Stewart could only stammer out, his voice scratchy and his body showing the sheer effects of the strength his enemy commanded.

Indeed, the form above him was a complete double in looks, down to his hat.

Still hazy from his intense physical pain, Stewart reached forward with his right gloved hand very shakily, barely able to reach the frowning Butcher's.

Eventually, however, he did.

Their hands clasped together and, almost immediately, Stewart found his vision correcting itself as well as strength finally return to his body. His eyes widened at the revelation as his cuts, bruises and other injuries began to heal. Unable to find another explanation for the shocking epiphany, Stewart's sky-blue eyes were drawn down to the Butcher's hand; as if by arcane magic of some kind, the flash from earlier engulfed their hands first and then their bodies.

Seemingly the reason for his return to strength.

The youth was pulled to his feet and his eyes widened when he caught the rare form of the Byrgenwerth Butcher smiling warmly back at him.

"B-Butcher, what are you-?"

His words, though echoed, did nothing to gain a vocal reply from the former serial killer. When Stewart caught his form very briefly phase in and out of existence, his eyes widened.

But this time in abject horror.

"No!"

His call exclaimed loudly as he attempted to pull his hand back from his second side's but it was impossible; the two were glued together.

He was giving his existence up as an offering to increase my power, he thought.

This can't be happening.

"The last hunter, pure of all corruption... this is what I am for, Stewart." The Butcher smiled on warmly, his hand still encased in his second side's.

"N-No, not another one!"

"Just as Sensei Laurence did, I choose to believe in you," the young man's deep Yharnam-refined accent echoed on throughout the dream, smiling as before. "Now, we are not separated as we once were in Iosefka's Clinic, now we are joined; together as one," he spoke, even his words fading with his gradually dissolving form. Stewart could only stare back in a mix of shock, horror and anguish, tears beginning to stain his eyes. "'Destroyer and Redeemer; pawn and messiah. Two halves born of one hunter; the Last Hunter'," the Butcher reiterated Armand's words for the second time, smiling as before; Stewart could only raise his eyebrow up in half-curiosity as he listened. "That hunter, Stewart... is you."

The listening youth's mouth hung open in another mix of shock and melancholy.

"End the cycle, Stewart," the Butcher smiled forward as warmly as he had done before, his words slowly fading along with his form. "I will be watching..."

As if almost waiting for his very words to finalise from his mouth, the second copy of Stewart's body finally phased out from existence, his rare smile along with it. The watching Stewart's eyes remained widened in a transfixed state, unable to even say a word in response, tears falling from his face at the prospect of yet another comrade and companion from his journey gone.

He didn't even hear the watching Moon Presence howl at him in conjunction with its leaping assault.

The ground trembled terribly from the commanding power the Presence exuded; its long clawed right arm smashed apart the ground where Stewart once stood, seemingly easily overpowering its immediate area of effect. A brief period of deathly silence descended down upon the scene; the Moon Presence let out a low hum through its otherworldly throat as it leaned forward, very slowly and carefully rising its bony-like fingers up as if to examine its assault.

DROOM

~

The Presence let out an echoing pained shriek as it was suddenly and, without warning, sent rolling and flying through the air; a gargantuan boost in blood-power was undeniably the source. Beneath a monumental aura of Blood Echo strength stood the renewed Stewart, his physical and arcane power having at least quadrupled since his earlier showing. With the deafening sound of his flaming aura shaking the very garden they stood in also came Stewart's low and guttural roar; his blood-shield's power reaching high into the sky, a veritable display of strength.

Without another word however, the screaming youth's body (and his aura with it) abruptly disappeared from common view. The last of his echoing roar carried into the dark night's air, following on after the air-rolling Moon Presence; the nameless Great One growled lowly as it used its many tentacles and tendrils to catch itself and recover, snapping its head around in seeming search for Stewart.

"HNGH!"

SMASH

The super-fast Stewart unexpectedly and very briefly re-appeared at the Presence's undefended side; though it gasped vocally and audibly in a show of its surprise, snapping its head 'round to face him it was far too late to do anything to prepare itself. The last hunter didn't even use his Trick Weapon to attack with; still coated in a blazing blood-aura, he slammed his right fist straight across the Great One's face. Shocked with his colossal increase in strength, the Moon Presence could only grunt gutturally as it was sent hurling across the dreaming skies. Though the scowling-faced Stewart vanished a second time, a telling sign of his obvious lightning-fast pursuit saw the beautiful flowers around his form melt from the sheer flame and speed he travelled at.

CRASH-SMASH

The nimble-footed Stewart re-appeared in common view just above the flying Presence before very swiftly somersault kicking the Great One's body toward the ground. The Moon Presence gave out a pained gasp as its body smashed firmly against the field beneath it, the sheer strength Stewart commanded sending it ricocheting absurdly high into the sky above. As Stewart landed in a graceful back-flip, his once blue eyes had visibly changed to a deep magenta shade; a combining of the Butcher's red and his own blue. The youth shot his magenta gaze skyward, his scowl still strong on his face; he reached his left arm upward just in time to catch the plummeting form of the Presence, his fist outstretched skyward.

SMASH-CRACK

The moon-scented Great One let out yet another elongated cry of sheer physical agony as Stewart's mist-blood encased fist connected with its already cracked ribs. Some bones from its ribcage dropped onto the glaring-faced Stewart before, finally, the Presence seemingly had enough; with an increase in its own power it blew the wide-eyed youth back with its own aura of blood-strength. The newly narrow-eyed Stewart rolled backwards through the air, rubbing at the new but very small injury across his mouth; a small trickle of blood escaping. As he skid across the flowery ground beneath him, pure unadulterated fire followed his lightning-quick form, burning the garden mercilessly from the sheer strength he exuded. Similarly, the ground beneath the Moon Presence's body began to melt from an exponential increase in strength, seemingly attempting to match its opponent's meteoric acceleration in force.

The two final remaining major players in Yharnam stared one another down, a similar kind of killing intent atmosphere surrounding them both. Eventually however, the pair broke their silence and opted to stand up, never breaking their gaze with one another. They began to march very slowly toward each other, their footsteps blazing the field beneath them. Very quickly however their pace stimulated and in tandem too; the pair's hateful gaze toward one another was the one constant that kept them sprinting forward. Eventually their forms became far too fast and powerful to be followed by mere human eyes and, as they did, the dream's garden erupted into a massive fireworks display of conflagration. At last it would appear the two massive auras of Blood Echo power clashed incredibly vociferously, echoing with a sense of finality.

SQUELCH-CRACK-DROOM

Silence plummeted down upon the remaining pair of warriors; they both re-appeared on opposite sides of the battlefield, frozen in particular stances. The Moon Presence lay down flat, its right clawed arm held spread forward, as if having already swiped as it passed. Stewart instead stood in a hard-eyed glare forward, his body leaning to his left side, eyes narrowed; his right arm outstretched ahead in a punching gesture, his own clenched left fist raised to rest in mid-air next to his face. Though the pair stood in their hard-eyed gazes for mere seconds, they passed as if minutes between them, watching ahead of one another in wait for the result of their final strikes.

At last however, the Moon Presence spoke up first; with a final guttural and low roar its shaking body turning very lightly to face its hated enemy. It reached backward with its long clawed arm to the posing form of Stewart's far-off body, as if to wring his very neck before finally dropping to the ground, its own body flashing in a brilliant white light.

"Thank you... Butcher." Stewart whispered forward, his hardened glower eventually softening into a light but saddened frown, relaxing his stance to stare skyward to the fading blood-red moon that once loomed over him.

He shut his eyes however, melancholy and a strange sense of relief washing over him as he spoke the final words he were to ever speak.

"Nightmare... Slain."


	28. Epilogue: Childhood's Beginning

Epilogue: Childhood's Beginning  
Breaking the Cycle Arc  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.  
Featured Music: "The Reluctant Heroes (Instrumental)"; Stewart's Theme – Hiroyuki Sawano (2018). Scene 1 and game credits.

Scene 1

\--

The Hunter's Dream, now almost completely derelict of people and life, hummed out a long and quiet wind. The plain doll, seemingly the only form of humanoid-like life left in the dimension, stepped her fair feet forward, gazing downward at a second form of life.

The two last presences left in the Hunter's Dream.

"Good hunter...," the plain doll addressed in a low and warm smile. "Are you cold...?" She questioned as she bent slowly downwards to reach for the strange creature on the ground; an infant Great One. "I never thought you'd have the stomach for what lied beyond the moon, good hunter...," the doll smiled motherly down at the little creature before rising, gently caressing the form to her loving embrace. "Well done, good hunter; you have liberated Yharnam from its chains only to be chained to this Hunter's Dream..."

Her words, though soft and melancholy, echoed on warmly throughout. She smiled along with her speech however as she continued.

"To give yourself up, body and soul; a vessel for the Hunter's Dream... I will be here with you, I and I alone," she claimed boldly as she drew the little aqua-blue creature toward her chest, as if to warm it. "We will both oversee this new chapter of Yharnam together..."

Her words echoed as she shut her eyes with the infant Great One in her embrace.

"This new chapter... of childhood beginnings."


End file.
